


A Gentleman's Guide to Bodily Pleasures

by raphae11e



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Aphrodisiacs, Blood Drinking, Bottom Harry Hart, Breathplay, Burlesque, Claiming, Comfort Sex, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Drugged Sex, Dry Orgasm, First Kiss, First Time, Kinktober 2017, Knotting, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Phone Sex, Prostate Milking, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shower Sex, Smutober, Spanking, Trapped In A Closet, Undercover As Prostitute, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, these will be added as I go along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 40,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12305070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphae11e/pseuds/raphae11e
Summary: Considering their occupation, it was a wonder Eggsy and Hary had time for sex at all-- but they always made it work. Frequently in rather unconventional ways.(Kinktober 2017 featuring Hartwin!)





	1. Birthday sex

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the party, folks! Let's see if I can actually complete a monthly challenge for once, shall we? I'm kind of just picking kinks at random as I go, so if anyone has suggestions I'd love to hear them! ;^)

Harry wasn’t one to be sensitive about his age. It was easy to ignore as a Kingsman; his years of training made him far more fit than most people, even in his fifties. Sometimes, though, when he looked at their younger members, he couldn’t help but note their differences. It was harder now for him to keep up with them-- especially Eggsy. That boy was a force of nature, in more ways than one. 

“G’morning Harry.”

Speak of the devil. There Eggsy stood, wearing just his pajama bottoms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The two of them were on leave after their last mission, so sleeping in was a luxury they could afford.

“Good morning, love,” Harry replied warmly. Eggsy smiled blearily, then shuffled past into the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans being shifted around began-- and then stopped. All of a sudden there was the rapid patter of feet as Eggsy returned to the room, his eyes wide.

“Jesus, I almost forgot!” he gasped. “Happy birthday!” Before Harry could utter a thank you, Eggsy was upon him. A firm kiss was pressed to his lips and he found himself blinking in surprise as the two of them separated.

“Thank you,” he said, “though a celebration isn’t necessary of course. We don’t need to--”

“ _Harry_ ,” Eggsy insisted, giving him a withering look. “Of course we’re goin’ to celebrate. What, you think we was just gonna act like it’s another normal day?”

“Well, yes, but--”

He was interrupted again by a ridiculously dramatic sigh, and by Eggsy draping himself across Harry’s lap. The motion very nearly knocked the teacup from Harry’s hands, and he had to set it gingerly aside as Eggsy made himself comfortable.

“Just because you think you’re gettin’ too old,” Eggsy said earnestly, “doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun, eh?” He grinned. “You’re worth somethin’ special.”

Harry tried to look offended at the comment about his age, but he couldn’t stop a smile from rising to his face. Not when Eggsy was looking at him so eagerly, clearly already planning something out in that pretty head of his.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I assume you already have something in mind?”

“Weeeeell…” Eggsy tilted his head to the side, a nonchalant gesture. “I  _ could  _ tell you all about how I’ve bought something for the occasion. And how I’m wearing that something right now.” The boy shifted in Harry’s lap, moving so that he was straddling Harry’s thighs and facing him. When his hips tilted just so-- obviously a deliberate move, the cheeky bastard-- the hem of his pants slipped to reveal a flash of soft fabric. There had been a bow in the front, Harry noted, and, ah. Not much material in the back.

A pair of hands came to rest against his chest, and he looked up into Eggsy’s grinning face. “Is that so?” he said, playing along.

Eggsy nodded. “I could tell you all about it,” he said again, “ _ or _ \--” Here his smile grew into something hungry. “I could show you.”

Jesus. This boy would be the death of him. “Showing seems far more preferable,” Harry replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound too hoarse. Eggsy responded with a laugh, and immediately reached for the hem of his pants.

Though Harry knew that yes, he was not as young as he once was, he quickly banished the thought. If the sounds he coaxed out of Eggsy were any indication, he clearly still had skill where it counted.


	2. Another person watches

When Eggsy had first extended an invitation to Tilde, she’d thought he was joking. After all, both he and Harry were spies; wasn’t the James Bond type supposed to be mysterious, secretive, quiet about their personal lives? But here Eggsy was, casual as could be, saying to her, “If I asked if you wanted to watch Harry an’ I fuck, what would you say?”

Tilde felt like her brain had short circuited. “I’m sorry, what?”

Eggsy shrugged. He looked a little embarrassed, most likely because of Tilde’s incredulous response. “Well, you an’ I have gone at it before,” he said with a quick grin, “So I know I’d enjoy havin’ you there. I talked to Harry about it and he don’t mind either.” Leaning forward conspiratorially, Eggsy added, “I think ‘e gets off on the idea. You know, of someone bein’ there.”

Rendered speechless, but only momentarily, Tilde enthusiastically agreed.

It started out strangely diplomatic. Tilde showed up on Harry and Eggsy’s doorstep a night only a few weeks after their initial conversation. Eggsy was the one to answer the door, and he grinned widely at her as she stepped inside. “Hope you came prepared,” he teased.

“You know I did,” came her coy response. She was led upstairs into their bedroom, where they found Harry standing at the dresser. He offered her a warm but a bit impersonal smile; Tilde had known he would be the aloof type. Still, Eggsy chose well, she had to admit. Harry cut a striking figure, and though she had no doubt that he’d always been attractive, something about his age added to his looks. He was very poised, and well dressed-- the perfect kind of man to watch unravel. Tilde caught herself before a too-sharp grin could spread across her face. 

“Harry,” Eggsy said fondly. Striding past Tilde, he reached his lover and tugged him down for a quick kiss. The height difference was beyond endearing; Eggsy had to stand on his tiptoes to press their mouths together.

“I see our  _ guest  _ has arrived,” Harry replied. The heavy emphasis on “guest” made something warm curl in the pit of Tilde’s stomach.

Eggsy nodded enthusiastically. “She was real excited about our offer.” Tilde allowed herself a smile now, cocking her head in a feigned attempt at innocence. Then Eggsy rested a hand against Harry’s chest. Eyes still focused on her, lips parted, he said, “Think she wants to watch me take you apart, Daddy?”

To Harry’s credit, he colored only slightly at the question. “I don’t doubt it,” he replied, and oh, now  _ both  _ of them were looking at her with those same burning, bright eyes.

Tilde’s smile grew from devious to absolutely predatory. This was going to be  _ fun. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's so short, guys. I feel like I can't write ALL the sex for all of these, cause 31 days of writing that from start to finish is gonna get boring real quick. At least for me as the writer. So things are gonna get mixed up a bit! In the best way possible, I promise.


	3. Undercover (at a club)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love some good club scene smut. Is that its own genre yet? I feel like it should be. Put it up there with coffee shop AU.

_ We’re here for the mission. Focus on the mission. Focus. _

Eggsy’s mantra wasn’t working. Part of that had to do with the loud, droning music that filled the night club, and part of that had to do with the man seated just a few feet in front of him. In his bespoke suit and thick rimmed glasses, Harry was unmistakable.

Currently undercover as an…  _ employee  _ at the club, Eggsy was tasked with cozying up to their target. In fact, he’d already done just that: the man had been easy enough to find, and even easier to ensnare. One heated look and an insistent press of Eggsy’s hands had the man melting. Placing a tracker on the target while he had a tongue down his throat was arguably harder than initiating the scenario in the first place.

And now he was supposed to wait things out until a reasonable time. Leaving right after his task might appear suspicious to the target, who was still walking around “sampling the goods,” as Merlin had put it. Fine, no harm done; Eggsy didn’t mind the club scene, enjoyed it even, so hanging around wasn’t really a chore.

Fuck, though, Harry was  _ right there.  _ Eggsy was still hyped up on adrenaline and a bit of arousal and could barely keep himself from going to the older spy. To top it off Harry was giving him that  _ look,  _ the one he could feel from miles away. But no,  _ stop it,  _ he told himself.  _ Get your fuckin’ head out of the gutter. The mission comes first.  _

Still, a little posturing couldn’t hurt. He stood at the bar, body turned to display the line of his legs and the swell of his ass in these fucking  _ criminally  _ tight jeans. Furtive looks were cast his way by other patrons, which he certainly appreciated, but he wasn’t posing for just anyone. Careful not to turn and look directly at Harry, he could’ve sworn he felt his skin prickling as if--

“You think you’re quite the sight, don’t you?” said a low voice. 

Eggsy just about jumped out of his skin, but managed to maintain outward composure as he turned to Harry. Well, this was a surprise; his mentor was normally so good at following the rules of their missions. They normally left the banter-- and the fucking  _ amazing  _ sex-- until they were finished and safely back at their home, or sometimes their hotel. Eggsy laughed at the thought of all the people they may have kept up at night. But being approached so deliberately while still active, and while the target was still on the premises?  _ Ballsy indeed, Harry,  _ Eggsy thought fondly.

Speaking of, Harry was still studying his face intently with that dark look. Dark in the best way, that meant the line of composure was very nearly crossed. “You sayin’ I  _ ain’t  _ a sight, bruv?” Eggsy teased. He still had to put on a bit of a show while on a mission, playing the part of a rentboy pulling in his next target. Harry was simply his next customer. His next customer who just happened to be a wealthy, dignified, handsome older man. Fuck, that idea shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

“I misspoke,” Harry said. Tentatively, as if grasping for the tattered remains of his restraint, he reached out and brushed the back of his hand over Eggsy’s cheek. Eggsy allowed his eyes to close briefly, lashes fluttering, and heard a quiet intake of breath. “I meant to say that you  _ know  _ you’re quite the sight. That much is obvious.” Here Harry’s gaze trailed down, taking in Eggsy’s attention-grabbing outfit. 

Eggsy hummed, pleased with the attention. Then Harry’s hand shifted again, thumb pressing lightly against his bottom lip, forcing his mouth to open just so. The whole room suddenly seemed ten degrees warmer, and Eggsy’s resolve all but disintegrated. 

_ Fuck being discreet _ , he thought, and said to Harry, “Any chance you’d be interested in a private show?”

As it turned out, fucking in those tiny private booths was a lot more difficult than either of them anticipated. They made it work anyway; Eggsy’s flexibility was useful in more situations than just his job.


	4. Voyeurism

Kingsman issued spectacles were interesting gadgets. They were the most useful of all their equipment, and oftentimes vital in the recording of conversations or other important information. They could also be linked between agents, meaning one could see through the eyes of the other, particularly if they were backing each other up in the field.

This last bit was what very nearly caused Harry’s death. Not literally, though as he sat in the Kingsman briefing room and Eggsy’s feed popped up in his spectacles, he certainly _wished_ for death more than once.

As Merlin clued them in on some new dossiers, Harry watched a scene unfold before his eyes: Eggsy lying in bed, hair mussed from sleep, seemingly just beginning to wake. The younger agent was on a mission in Dubai, hence the fancy hotel room visible through the feed. With one eye on still Merlin’s presentation he saw Eggsy turn to lie on his back, his profile now visible. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t _look_ tired, Harry mused. Instead his brow was furrowed, his mouth partially open as he kicked the sheets off to reveal the rest of his body.

Oh. Well, now it was abundantly clear what Eggsy was doing.

Suddenly it became much harder to focus on whatever details Merlin was relaying, because half of Harry’s field of vision was filled with Eggsy. Eggsy, touching himself, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other sneaking down further, fingers poised to--

“Harry, anything to add?”

It took a considerable amount of effort to not jump in his seat at Merlin’s interjection. Prying his eyes away from the feed, Harry tried for what he hoped was an attentive expression. From the look on Merlin’s face, he wasn’t quite succeeding.

“Ah, not at all,” Harry said truthfully. He quickly gave the map they’d been discussing a once over. Briefly his eyes flickered back to Eggsy, who now clearly had _both_ of his hands occupied. Jesus. “Carry on, Merlin.”

Though he received a withering look for his lack of focus, Merlin luckily decided against throwing him under the bus in front of every single one of his fellow agents. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and, for just a moment, resolved to actually pay attention to their lecture.

Those hopes were of course dashed when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a flurry of movement from Eggsy’s spectacles. The young man had turned onto his stomach, back arched and legs spread in a way that forced his body to curve near sinfully. He had three fingers sunk knuckle deep inside his body, and Harry felt his own hands grip at the arms of his chair. God, Eggsy was every bit the performer, even when no one was watching him.

And then, as if on cue, Eggsy turned his head and looked directly at his spectacles. Directly at Harry. And _grinned._

Harry caught himself before he cursed aloud, but it was a near thing. _Of course,_ he thought desperately, _why am I even surprised._ Though he was thoroughly exasperated and willed himself desperately not to turn red, a part of him was grudgingly proud. Eggsy was a conniving little thing, and Harry had to admit that he loved it.

The meeting continued without incident, though Harry did receive a few concerned glances from his co workers whenever he shifted restlessly in his chair. All in all, he was relieved no one noticed the extent of his, ah, discomfort. Not even when he watched Eggsy ring himself out, come sticking to the crisp white sheets, his mouth open in a perfect “o.” Watching it happen without sound made the visuals all the more appealing. By the end of the meeting Harry felt completely frazzled, and really, what had he done to deserve such a wonderful yet absolutely infuriating partner?

He was out of the room and making a beeline for his office as soon as the meeting adjourned. Door safely shut behind him, Harry ordered his spectacles to pull up Eggsy’s feed again, and to enable their microphones. He was met with a view of the young spy sitting comfortably on his bed. And still naked, of course, Harry noted wryly.

“You are _insufferable_ ,” he said by way of greeting. Eggsy’s head turned towards the nightstand and he grinned; clearly he’d been expecting Harry to call back.

“Yeah,” he admitted, completely shameless. “But you ain’t gonna tell me to quit it.”

Harry huffed out a sigh, and resolutely remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy is SUCH a little shit. I LOVE HIM


	5. Bondage/shibari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S some actual sex. B^)

“Who knew Harry Hart, prim an’ proper gentleman, was secretly this kinky?” Eggsy kept his tone of voice serious, profound, like he’d discovered something groundbreaking.

Harry, from his place against the headboard, let out sigh that was equal parts irritated and amused. “Don’t act so surprised,” he replied. “This is hardly the first creative thing we’ve done in bed.”

“Fair,” Eggsy admitted. He was seated between Harry’s spread legs, watching intently as the man fidgeted. “But you seem to _really_ like this one.” He slid two of his fingers under the rope that had settled at the junction of Harry’s hip and thigh. The older spy’s whole body shuddered in response, and the look on his face darkened. He seemed to consider struggling, but then thought better of it; Eggsy knew his way around a knot, that was for sure.

When he’d first proposed the idea, Harry had seemed intrigued but not overly eager. Bondage wasn’t exactly a foreign concept to either of them, but at the same time, neither of them had actually been tied up in the bedroom. Eggsy, of course, was enthusiastic from the beginning. As soon as Harry gave his consent, he set to learning about all the patterns they could choose from. A great deal of trial and error later, Eggsy had managed to learn the rigging inside and out.

They’d settled on something a bit more complex: Harry’s entire chest was crisscrossed with rope, a line of knots trailing from sternum to below his navel. From there they looped around his back and settled over his spine. His hands were tied over his head, of course, secured in place by the headboard.

It really was a good look for Harry, Eggsy had to admit. Despite his age Harry was still strong, and the thought of that strength being restrained was far hotter than it had any right to be. To Eggsy’s delight, both of them seemed to agree on that: they hadn’t even started anything yet and Harry’s breaths were already deepening, his hands clenching and unclenching around thin air. He was already hard too, his dick drooling precum over his stomach.

Eggsy bit his lip. Fuck, both of them were way more into this than they’d initially thought. For a moment he just sat there, taking in the sight in front of him, watching as Harry grew more impatient. Showing more resolve than he was normally capable of, Eggsy pointedly ignored the pleading looks that were being sent his way. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought his partner was pouting at him.

Eventually one of them had to give, and in this case it was Harry. His head tilted back to rest against the headboard, eye still boring into Eggsy’s. “Please,” he asked, voice uneven. “Can we get on with it?”

Flashing a grin, Eggsy nodded. “You asked so _nicely,_ Daddy,” he cooed. He didn’t miss the way Harry’s hips twitched at his words. As he got up on his knees and positioned himself above those thighs, Eggsy reached out to brace himself against the bedframe. The angle brought their faces mere inches apart; up this close, he could see the thin ring of brown still visible around blown pupils. “Lemme take care of you,” he breathed, before slowly lowering himself and sinking down on Harry’s cock.

The reaction was instantaneous: Harry moaned, a choked sound that got caught in the back of his throat, eyes closing and lips parting. His back arched enough that their chests pressed together, sticky with sweat. Eggsy let out a little laugh, still grinning; God, he was _so_ fucking glad he’d prepared himself before they did all the rope shit. Neither of them were going to last long.

Determined to make the most of their setup while it lasted, Eggsy set a slow, deliberate rhythm with his hips, both hands gripping the headboard for leverage. At every stroke Harry’s breath shuddered. The way his chest expanded under the rigging, the way his muscled arms flexed against his restraints: all of it was driving Eggsy _insane._ And when he got riled up, he tended to also get-- as Harry so daintily put it-- “mouthy.”

“Didn’t realize how much you’d like bein’ powerless,” he purred. “That’s it, innit? Lettin’ your boyfriend fuck hisself on your cock, while you sit there an’ can’t do nothin’ but watch.” Harry shuddered at his words, eyes glazed over, but made no sound. “So _composed,_ Daddy,” drawled Eggsy. He sunk down again, this time glancing over his prostate, his legs nearly buckling. “Ahh, God--”

He should’ve guessed that Harry wouldn’t just sit there passively the whole time. Just as his legs turned to jelly the man bucked his hips, using his unrestrained legs for leverage. The extra strength behind the thrust made it nail that spot inside him again. Eggsy’s moan was almost embarrassingly whorish, but he could hardly bring himself to care.

“You,” Harry panted raggedly, his voice nearly a growl, “are a _brat.”_

“Don’ see you complainin’,” Eggsy shot back shakily. Regaining some of his strength, he redoubled his efforts, his movements less precise but much faster and rougher.

Soon the two of them were falling apart at the seams: it was no surprise that Eggsy was vocal in bed, but even the normally quiet Harry had begun to find his voice. Their rhythm forced the air from his lungs in uneven gasps, and at one particularly hard thrust, Eggsy’s body clenching around him, he let out a surprised “ah!”. Later Eggsy would undoubtedly find it beyond endearing, but in the moment-- well. It was nigh fucking impossible to process anything but the slide of skin against skin, the press of Harry’s rigging against his thighs, the feeling of Harry’s body writhing underneath him as he fought against his bonds.

After what felt like hours later, Eggsy felt the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach finally give way. He sank down one last time and, gasping, came completely untouched. His come striped across Harry’s chest and belly and the ropes pressing into his skin. Only a few moments later Harry stilled as well, his jaw clenched around a moan. Resting his forehead against a sweat-soaked shoulder, Eggsy whined as he felt his insides grow warmer, come leaking out of him from around Harry’s cock.

For a moment, neither of them could speak. They sat there in relative silence, hot breath washing over even hotter skin. Eggsy allowed himself to settle bonelessly against Harry’s chest, because fuck if he had the energy to move from this position. He was comfortable right where he was, thank you very much.

Eventually Eggsy did break the silence. “So, uh, that was--”

“Fucking _incredible,_ ” Harry finished breathlessly. The candid reply startled a laugh out of Eggsy. Seconds later Harry seemed to realize what he’d said; when Eggsy turned his head to look, the man was blushing. “It was- It was very good,” he amended. “And I suggest a, um, repeat performance. Very soon. Please.”

Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from giggling again. He pressed himself a little closer to Harry’s chest, his smile broad. “Yeah,” he said cheekily. “I _bet_ you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I kind of bullshitted my way through the description of that rigging, but I DID actually look up some pictures for reference. Here's one I used to describe the knots: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/59/2e/c3/592ec363c536b78376d3505cd21688ba--men-pics-fetish-fashion.jpg That, plus some bound wrists. Nice. ;^)


	6. Morning sex

There were very, very few things that could make Eggsy forgo sleeping in on one of their days off. It just so happened that at the top of that list was Harry: being kissed awake, or turning to find Harry sitting beside him with a book in hand. Sure, it was sappy, but fuck if he cared.

Of course, even better was when he managed to wake up earlier than his partner, which was nearly impossible. When it did happen, though, Eggsy had to make it a _memorable_ experience.

Harry blinked awake as Eggsy broke their kiss, faces hovering mere inches apart. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, and muttered something that sounded vaguely like a “good morning.”

“Good morning,” Eggsy echoed, his voice much brighter. He rested a hand against Harry’s chest, rubbing over the soft fabric of his nightshirt. “Tired, hm?”

By way of response, Harry threw an arm across his forehead and made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.

Eggsy patted his chest sympathetically. Then he sat up, moving fluidly to sit astride Harry’s thighs. He heard a surprised noise at his change in position, but pointedly avoided looking up at his partner. Instead he huddled close, pressing their bodies together and entangling their legs.

“I see that someone wants attention,” Harry commented drowsily. There was a note of amusement in his voice, so Eggsy knew his wordless proposition hadn’t been denied.

“What gave it away?” he asked, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. His expression must have been sufficiently coy, because he was met with a vaguely hungry gaze. It wasn’t near Harry’s normal attentive stare yet, but they were only just getting started; there was plenty of time for that later. For now, Eggsy enjoyed the thought of slowly waking the both of them up with some unhurried, lazy morning sex.

“I’m not quite sure.” Though his voice was light, one of Harry’s hands had crept down to press just under the swell of Eggsy’s ass. He made a pleased sound as those fingers dug into his bare flesh, hauling him up so that their mouths could meet in a sloppy kiss.

Both of them had morning breath, he was sure, but he didn’t give a fuck. Eggsy wasn’t about to break their rhythm just to get out of bed and brush his damn teeth. He pressed his tongue against Harry’s bottom lip, deepening their kiss as he rolled his hips forward. They both gasped as their bodies slid together, already half-hard.

Suddenly Harry pulled his head back, breaking their kiss. He licked his lips, a motion which Eggsy watched very intently. Then he said, already breathless, “I need to brush my teeth.”

Eggsy’s arousal instantly gave way to dismay. “ _What!”_ he whined, less of a question and more of a protest. “Harry, you tellin’ me to stop in the middle of this to go make sure that, what, your breath is minty fresh?”

“Yes.”

Eggsy, he wasn’t ashamed to admit, pouted. “Come off it.”

Before he could continue complaining, Harry stretched up to press a kiss under Eggsy’s chin. He pressed several more under his jaw, taking his sweet time. Eggsy all but melted under the attention. When Harry reached the sensitive patch of skin just under his ear, he bit down hard; it made Eggsy yelp, but his hips still twitched in interest.

“If you think I’m going to suck your cock with this _disgusting_ taste in my mouth,” Harry said lowly, “then you’d be mistaken. And you’d best let me up.”

Eggsy had never scrambled out of bed faster in his _life._


	7. Breathplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Eggsy's turn to be a kinky motherfucker. ;^D

A great deal of their _interests_ in bed were discovered accidentally, and this was no exception.

Eggsy was on his back, being pressed into the bed, Harry’s hips rolling against his in a slow, steady rhythm. He didn’t even notice as Harry attempted to reposition himself and pressed a palm against Eggsy’s collarbone, shifting his weight. All he registered was a sudden burst of pleasure behind his eyelids as his breath caught in his throat.

“Gah--” he gasped, body jerking up without warning. The hand quickly pulled away, and their movements slowed to practically a stop.

“What is it?” asked Harry. His eye was dark with arousal, but a flicker of concern was visible there too.

Eggsy shook his head frantically, pushing his hips up insistently. “I’m f-fine, I’m, I just--” He reached up to grab hold of Harry’s hand and pressed it against his throat. The feel of those fingers against his sensitive skin, resting there innocently, made his body shudder. “Please,” he begged. When Harry still looked unsure, Eggsy wrapped the fingers around his neck, squeezing them. “God, please, Daddy. Jus’ a little.”

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Harry nodded. He looked far too serious for a man whose boyfriend was asking to be choked during sex. Or wait, maybe that was the correct response. Fuck, Eggsy’s priorities were screwed to hell.  He didn’t give it another thought once Harry started moving again, this time curling his fingers just enough to restrict his air supply.

Almost immediately Eggsy began to feel dizzy, his body jerking as he met each thrust. Spots danced in front of his eyes; something thorny curled in the pit of his stomach, but just as he felt his orgasm build, Harry’s fingers relaxed.

“God, fuck,” Eggsy spat out. He could barely speak, his voice hoarse with pleasure and lack of air. “Again, please, please--”

Harry didn’t hesitate this time, fingers holding him in a bruising grip. Eggsy’s vision swam dangerously, his thoughts becoming muddy, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as pleasure washed over him. He could hear the bed creaking and Harry panting from what seemed like the end of a tunnel. It was too much, too much, but it wasn’t enough at the same time. He needed--

His climax hit him so quickly he didn’t even register it happening at first. Then suddenly he was swept up, back arching off the sweaty sheets. Fuck, he even felt his eyes roll back for a second, mouth open wide and panting. Suddenly he could breathe again too, and breathe he did, taking deep and shuddering gasps of air. It took a moment for the room to come back into focus. When it did, he saw Harry hovering over him with a wet rag, his face a mixture of exhaustion and still a bit of that concern. Bless his chivalrous heart.

“Jesus Christ,” Eggsy croaked. “Since when did my sex life get this fuckin’ crazy?”

He was still a bit too out of it to be sure, but he thought he might’ve heard Harry laugh.


	8. After an injury

It wasn’t often that Eggsy played the level-headed role in their relationship-- that was usually Harry’s job. Sometimes though, very rarely, the tables turned.

This, Eggsy noted, looked like it was turning out to be one of those times. “Harry, babe, please,” he said exasperatedly. “You’re gonna pop your fuckin’ stitches.”

“Don’t care,” Harry replied simply. His grip on the back of Eggsy’s jacket was tight as a vice, and it didn’t seem like he was going to be letting go anytime soon. He pulled them together for another hard kiss.

Eggsy made a surprised sound, but didn’t pull away; the last thing he wanted to do was jostle his partner’s still-healing wound. The older spy had run into trouble during his last mission, and had returned home with a knife wound in his gut. It was ridiculous how unconcerned Harry had been about the whole thing. “Really, it’s no trouble, Eggsy,” he’d said earnestly. Then he continued, admitting, “Though it did hurt like a bitch.”

While no one doubted that Harry would make a complete and speedy recovery, being trapped in bed for the larger portion of his time off was clearly driving him insane.

“S’only been two days since you got back,” Eggsy insisted. Harry’s face was buried in the crook of his neck now, and every so often he felt the press of teeth. Each time his breath hitched, but he resolutely continued his line of reasoning. “You know Merlin’s gonna have a conniption if somethin’ happens.”

“Nothing _will_ happen,” came Harry’s retort. The expression on his face when he gazed up at Eggsy could only be called rueful. “Eggsy,” he said, his voice serious, “I cannot begin to describe what has happened to me in my time as a Kingsman. I have been stabbed before, and burned, poisoned, electrocuted, and any number of equally horrible things. And, of course,” he tapped his left temple, drawing attention to his blind eye, “shot.”

Eggsy frowned a bit at the memory. “I ain’t sayin’ you’re not tough, Harry. I’m only worried that--”

“Eggsy.” Harry’s good eye was boring into his now, almost pleading. “I promise you that I can handle it. I just…” He trailed off, suddenly leaning forward to press another kiss under Eggsy’s jaw. “I need this,” he murmured against his skin.

The sensation made Eggsy shiver. Despite his worry, he had to admit that Harry looked good when he was a bit roughed up. That, and his desperation was a rare sight. He could feel his resolve slipping away by the second.

With a world-weary sigh-- he played it up for the sake of drama-- Eggsy gave his partner a resigned smile. “If I agree to let you fuck me,” he said, like it was such a _chore,_ “will you at least sit fucking _still?_ ”

“Yes,” Harry replied immediately, hunger evident on his face and in his voice.

Eggsy rolled his eyes, but he did stand up to begin undressing. Something told him he was going to enjoy this more than he really should. _Then again,_ he thought amusedly, _suppose you can’t be a secret agent without at least a bit of masochism._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I'm finally caught up. Go me!!! >:^D


	9. Trapped in a small space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this trope so much. B^)

“Eggsy,” Harry said for what felt like the twentieth time, “your elbow is jabbing me in the ribs.”

“I don’t exactly got anywhere else to put it, bruv,” Eggsy hissed back.

In a series of rather ridiculous and unfortunate events, the two of them were currently trapped in a broom closet. In the basement of a warehouse. That was being used for the headquarters of a drug ring. And the area was swarming with guards. All things considered, the placement of the broom closet was ideal: they were just down the hall from an exit, which both of them knew from looking at the map on their spectacles.

Despite that, Harry couldn’t help but note that _not_ being stuck in a broom closet would be even _more_ ideal. Especially considering how tightly they were pressed together.

“How long d’you think we gotta wait?” Eggsy asked, peering out through the slats in the door, for once totally oblivious to Harry’s pain. When he leaned forward, craning his neck to try to see what was going on outside, his arse pressed into the cradle of Harry’s hips. Silently the older spy willed himself not to react.

Of course fate wouldn’t let him off that easy, though, because no sooner did their bodies connect that Eggsy made a surprised sound. His head jerked back as he turned to look over his shoulder, fixing Harry with a wide eyed stare. Then, ever so slowly, he bared his teeth in a grin.

“ _Harry,_ ” he said, his tone one of disbelief, “I’m flattered.” God did Harry already want to sink into the floor and avoid addressing this issue entirely.

“Do not say a single _word,_ ” he replied, enunciating the sentence carefully. He was trying desperately not to let his embarrassment show, but knew Eggsy could see right through the charade.

“Oh, I won’t _say_ anything.” There was another slow roll of Eggsy’s body against his, this time very much deliberate. “After all,” the younger agent drawled, “We have to focus on the mission.”

Neither of them were _nearly_ as concerned as they should be about their current predicament. Through his spectacles Harry thought he heard Merlin heave a long-suffering sigh, but the man blessedly abstained from commenting.

Again Harry’s thoughts were interrupted as Eggsy leaned back entirely, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh. “How long _do_ you think we’ll be in here, hm?” he breathed. “Long enough to--”

“Afraid not, boys,” Merlin cut in, making the both of them start. Their tech expert didn’t hide the wry amusement in his voice when he added, “Looks like you’ll have an opening to get out o’there in just a second. Be prepared.”

There was a moment of silence as both of them attempted to right themselves, Harry desperately trying to will away his arousal. Eggsy turned and flashed him a grin for good measure. _You know what?_ Harry suddenly thought. _Fuck it._ And he reached down to grab a handful of Eggsy’s ass.

He received a frankly theatric gasp in response, Eggsy’s body jolting forward and then snapping back as he leaned into the touch. Harry heard a quiet mutter of, “Fuck,” and felt a smile creep over his own face.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this so easily,” he commented, keeping his voice deceptively light.

From the way Eggsy shivered Harry knew he understood the true meaning of his words. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” For a moment Eggsy looked like he was going to do something stupid, like turn to face Harry, which would no doubt make an incredible amount of noise.

They were saved from their own stupidity by Merlin, once again. “Go now!” he commanded, and with one final smouldering look Eggsy burst from the closet with Harry hot on his heels.

Needless to say, it was one of their more eventful escapes.


	10. Claiming/ownership

When the two of them had first become an item, they established early on that honeypots would not be a problem. Both he and Harry were capable of remaining detached for such missions, and most of the time they were more or less uneventful: seduce the target, complete your objective, and vacate the premises. It was simple, in and out. There was never animosity between the two of them, for which Eggsy was beyond grateful. He didn’t think he could deal with Harry being upset for him, not with something as unavoidable as an important Kingsman operation.

Every so often Eggsy would receive a target that really got under Harry’s skin. If Eggsy was being honest, it had worried him at first. But now… well.

“The way he  _ looked  _ at you, darling,” Harry growled above him. They were in his office in Kingsman headquarters, in broad daylight, with Eggsy bent nearly in half over Harry’s mahogany desk. It was one of the most expensive materials Eggsy’d been fucked on, that was for sure.

“Like he wanted to eat me alive?” Baiting his boyfriend was probably not a good idea, considering he was capable of killing a man with his bare hands. But God, was it  _ fun.  _ “Like he couldn’t wait to put ‘is hands on me, and do whatever he wanted to me?”

Harry made a distinctly angry sound in the back of his throat. One hand at Eggsy’s nape, the other gripping his hip so hard it would bruise, he set a brutal pace with his thrusts. Eggsy gasped, cheek pressed against the cool wood as his fingers scrabbled for purchase. The two of them were still in their suits, slacks yanked down around their thighs. Eggsy could hear the pricey fabric rubbing together as Harry’s hips met the backs of his legs.

“Disgusting,” Harry spat out. “Absolutely abhorrent, how he thought you were _ his _ .” It was amazing how Harry’s vocabulary remained so diverse, even in the middle of sex.

“‘Course I ain’t his.” Burying his face in the crook of his arm, Eggsy suddenly felt his face redden. His whole neck and shoulders were probably flushed too, hidden under his suit. “I ain’t his,” he mumbled, “‘cause I’m yours.”

There was a shifting sound as Harry leaned forwards. When he spoke again, his voice was mere inches from Eggsy’s ear. “What was that?”

God, of course he’d have to repeat it. Harry was going to be the fucking death of him. He turned his head, meeting that dark gaze momentarily before he had to look away. Even Eggsy, notorious for his lack of shame, could be self-conscious sometimes.

“I said-- I said, ‘cause I’m yours.”

He heard a shaky, greedy draw of breath. “That’s right,” Harry breathed. “ _ Mine. _ ” He punctuated the word with a sharp buck of his hips, glancing off of Eggsy’s prostate and making him moan. 

“Ahh, God, Harry I--” He was interrupted by another thrust. It forced the air from Eggsy’s lungs, and another moan with it. Christ, maybe he needed to get Harry this worked up more often: he was getting fucked so hard he was practically choking on it.

“A mission is a mission,” said Harry casually. Like he wasn’t currently seething with jealousy. “But men who presume they can do what they wish with you are  _ sorely  _ mistaken.” As if suddenly realizing what he was in the midst of doing, he bore down on Eggsy once more, their bodies pressed together.

“Fuck,” Eggsy whimpered. His legs practically gave way beneath him as his sweet spot was nailed over and over, thighs shaking with the effort it took to hold his weight. “Hah, Harry, y’know that when they fuck m-me I-- gah,  _ Christ _ \-- I-I only think of you. W-Wouldn’t want anyone else, please, Daddy--”

Harry bent over him, reaching his free hand underneath his body. Deft fingers loosened the knot of Eggsy’s tie, allowing his shirt to fall open at the top button. Then without warning Harry buried his face in the now exposed skin of Eggsy’s neck and bit down,  _ hard. _

With a harsh gasp Eggsy finally came, his come staining the dark wood of the desk. Seconds later Harry finished inside him. The two of them stood there, shaking; Eggsy remained silent, as most of his brain was currently devoted to keeping himself upright. His entire body felt suddenly boneless. Above him Harry shuddered, lips still pressed to the throbbing bruise that now adorned his neck. 

“Eggsy, love,” he breathed. “I….” The bruising grip he’d used just moments before had now softened. Instead his hands rubbed soothingly against the jut of Eggsy’s hip, over the curve of his spine. He didn’t finish his sentence, but it had been hard to miss the apologetic tone in his voice.

Mustering up his last bit of strength, Eggsy pushed himself upright. He turned around as he tugged his trousers back on-- momentarily grimacing at the feel of sweaty skin against the fine fabric-- and fixed the older spy with a  _ look.  _ “Harry Hart,” he said stoically, “you had better not start feelin’ fuckin’ guilty over that. Because that was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” 

Harry snorted, but already Eggsy could tell that the comment had lightened his mood. “Perhaps I have a bit of a jealous streak,” he admitted, sounding rather sheepish.

Eggsy smiled sweetly and gave Harry’s cheek a gentle pat. “What gave it away?” he asked. He reached up to run a hand through the man’s mussed hair, trying and mostly failing to make it look more presentable. “And if it makes you feel better,” he added, “I really do think of you during them honeypot missions.”

The look on Harry’s face at his admission was beyond priceless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	11. Multiple orgasms/Coming dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH! It's fine, it still counts: it's October 11 somewhere in the world still. Hope y'all like this one, cause I literally JUST cranked it out!

“Your stamina is quite impressive. Do you know that, Eggsy?”

All Harry got in response was a moan. He supposed it was rather difficult to reply, what with Eggsy’s face pressed into his shoulder and all. They were seated on the edge of their king size bed; Harry had one hand on Eggsy’s hip, holding him in place. The other hand was considerably _ more  _ occupied. 

“It’s been, what…” Harry tilted his head towards the ceiling in mock consideration-- just as he curled the three fingers he had in Eggsy’s ass. It earned him another choked sound and an abortive twitch of hips. “It’s been twice already, yes?” He stroked his free hand up over Eggsy’s spine, feeling him shiver under his palm. “Shall we try for a third?”

Eggsy sucked in a harsh breath. “Harry,” he pleaded, “H-Harry I don’t think I--”

“Hush.” Scissoring his fingers made Eggsy’s words unravel completely. When their hips met again, Harry could feel the mess of come already staining his thighs, and Harry’s own trousers.  _ Laundry night _ , he thought distractedly, then said, “I think you can manage, darling.”

A quiet whine, but no more protests. They would take things slow at first, then, just in case. As appealing as all this was, Harry didn’t want to push his poor partner too hard.

Carefully as he could, he pulled his fingers out and turned the two of them around so that Eggsy was beneath him. “Just relax,” he murmured against Eggsy’s temple. Then he pressed his fingers back in, making a noise of approval when they were accepted easily. “Lovely, just like that.”

“ _ Harry. _ ” Eggsy squirmed and turned his face into the pillow. A flush was creeping across his skin, even reaching his neck and shoulders. It was a remarkably good look for him, Harry noted fondly. There was a rustling noise as Eggsy shifted on the bed, spreading his thighs further apart, one of his legs coming to hook itself over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Perfect, darling.” As a reward Harry curled his fingers suddenly and pressed them hard against Eggsy’s prostate. He very narrowly missed being kicked in the head.

“Fuck!” 

“Language,” Harry tutted.

Eggsy made a noise in the back of his throat, too breathless to truly sound irritated. “Oh, come off it,” he panted. “You absolute--”

Before he could finish, the fingers inside him began to move. They spread apart, forcing his body open, and their harsh in-and-out rhythm reduced Eggsy to incoherency once more. “Enough of your cheek,” Harry said lightly. He turned his finger at the wrist, watched hungrily as Eggsy made a sound very near a sob. “Though,” he continued, “I will forgive you, just this once.” 

That earned him a derisive huff of laughter. 

“I’ll forgive you,” Harry repeated, “because you look so  _ beautiful _ like this.” With that he leaned forward, his body positioned over Eggsy’s, and pressed down until they were flush against each other. At this angle Eggsy was practically bent in half, which meant…

“ _ Ah! _ ” The younger man’s whole body jerked as Harry fingered him, making sure to strike his prostate at every thrust. “Ahhh, f-fuck, I--”

“Yes?” prompted Harry. When Eggsy started to answer, he rubbed his fingers hard against that spot and grinned as the words turned to choked gasps.

“I-I can’t much longer, I can’t--!” His voice was wet and thick with tears; warmth curled hot and thorny in Harry’s gut at the thought. “P-Please,” Eggsy gasped. “Please, H-Harry, please let me.”

It certainly felt like he was getting close: his insides kept clenching around Harry’s fingers, raw and oversensitive from the rough treatment. Harry pressed a kiss to his flushed jawline and pulled back. He took in the sight of Eggsy’s flushed and tearstained cheeks, his glazed eyes, his kiss-swollen lips. “So beautiful,” he breathed. And then, “Yes, darling-- go ahead.”

That was all it took. No sooner had he spoken than Eggsy was coming undone, his muscles seizing up and shuddering as he came dry. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, brows furrowed, mouth open in a silent moan. Seconds later he took a shaky gasp and time seemed to start again, Eggsy’s chest heaving as he took deep, greedy breaths.

Finally pulling his hands away and wiping them haphazardly on their sheets, Harry reached out to gently run a hand through the younger man’s sweat-soaked hair.

“Hmn.” Eggsy opened his eyes just enough to gaze up at him through his lashes. “Forgot ‘bout you,” he mumbled, words still slurred from the pleasure.

Harry smiled. “Later,” he replied, and bent down to press a kiss to Eggsy’s slack mouth. “We have all the time in the world.”


	12. Comfort sex

He was back in the church again.

All around him, throngs of people were at each other’s throats. People were pulling guns from their belts, fashioning makeshift weapons out of splintered wood and shattered glass. In front of him Harry saw one woman with her arms outstretched, clawing at another’s eyes, her face frozen in a snarl.

Cocking his own pistol, Harry aimed and cleanly fired one shot. Straight through her temple. Seconds later, the second woman dropped too.

With his blood pounding in his veins he spun and tossed himself into the fray, gunning people down left and right. He never used more bullets than was necessary; a Kingsman prided themselves in being efficient, after all. Funny how that code of conduct was still at the forefront of his brain, even as he wrapped his fingers around a man’s throat and _squeezed_.

There was a stab of pain as a knife slid cleanly through his bespoke suit and into his back. Harry snarled, turning to face his attacker. His vision swam, the colors too saturated, the lines too clean and sharp and-- he smiled. These people were hardly a match for him.

The man who’d stabbed him was met with the very same knife to his eye. The blood splattered across his face and Harry could _taste it_. Could feel it in the grooves of his molars. His grin only became sharper as another person ran at him headlong, brandishing a wooden stake, and he--

He shot up in bed, his breath caught in his chest. At his left he heard Eggsy start awake-- “Harry!”-- but he was already struggling out from under the covers, trying to stand.

A hand caught him around the wrist. “ _Harry,_ ” Eggsy said again. “Harry, hey, hey, look at me.”

It took an immense amount of effort to will himself to stop. His lungs felt strange, like they’d shrunk several sizes, but still-- he stopped. Feeling frozen in place, he stiffly turned to face Eggsy, who was looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re safe,” the younger man said, voice firm but soft.

“I…” He sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Though his heart was still racing, Eggsy’s gentle grip on his arm was helping to ground him. “I-I apologize. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eggsy shook his head. “None a’ that,” he insisted. Letting go just long enough to disentangle himself from the sheets, he moved to sit at Harry’s side. Their bodies pressed together and the warmth helped to soothe his frayed nerves. “We all got nightmares."

Though he made a good point, Harry still found himself shaking his head. “Not like that, though. Never like that.”

A noise of assent, and then two hands were cradling his cheeks. They forced him to turn and meet Eggsy’s gaze again. “What do you need?” he asked softly.

For a moment, Harry wasn’t sure. His memories had jagged edges, and he often cut himself on them. Every time his mind began to mend itself, healing over past hurts, something would happen. With surprising clarity, he would suddenly remember how he’d felt that day in the church. And then it seemed like all the progress he’d made had slipped away again.

But sitting here now, in the quiet of their bedroom, with Eggsy touching him so _delicately_ , in a way he hardly deserved--

“You,” he said quietly. “Please, Eggsy.”

Eggsy smiled: it was still a bit tight with worry, but it was genuine. “That can be arranged,” he replied, teasing. Very slowly, as if to avoid startling Harry, he leaned forward and pressed their mouths together.

It was amazing how time seemed to pass so quickly, when his mind was like this. His head ached, remnants of his brush with death, but even when Harry wasn’t grounded he could always feel Eggsy. Hands against his chest, rubbing over the dip of his spine, hands guiding the two of them down onto the soft sheets. The press of a soft palm and weapon-roughened fingers between his legs.

Harry came undone with a sigh and Eggsy’s name on his lips. He’d never been religious, but maybe that was a sort of prayer in its own right. As they huddled together, surrounded only by the sound of their own hitched breathing, Eggsy managed to catch his eye. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Something ached deep in Harry’s chest-- something entirely different than the dull throb at his temples and the acute pain of his past mistakes. And he found that, unlike the others, this ache was a welcome one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add this chapter to the list of "prompts that turned out to be more sappy than I intended." :''^)


	13. Phone sex/Voice kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never!

Rolling over in bed to squint blearily at the nightstand, Eggsy was momentarily blinded by their alarm clock’s bright, artificial light. Its neon numbers read 3:45 a.m and he groaned, burying his face in his pillow. The cold spot in bed reminded him all too vividly of Harry’s absence.

It happened sometimes, when one of them was on a mission; lying awake at night, unable to sleep. Having a job where both you and your partner were in constant danger did that sort of thing to you. Sometimes the feeling would subside by itself and he would fall asleep on his own. But as Eggsy lie there, chewing at his bottom lip, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without some help.

He glanced again at the alarm clock, doing the math in this head. Harry was on a mission in Kentucky to meet with their Statesman allies, meaning there were five hours of difference between them. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Harry picked up on the third ring; he’d called on his normal civvie phone this time, instead of using their Kingsman issue spectacles. “Eggsy,” said the man, his voice warm. It was clear he already knew why his partner had called.

“Hey, Harry,” Eggsy replied, smiling up at the ceiling. He could almost picture Harry already, sitting in some comfy armchair at his hotel, looking unbelievably posh even when dressed casually. “I just, uh, wanted t’see how you was doing,” he continued. It _was_ the truth, after all. “How’s the mission?”

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “Painfully boring,” confessed Harry. “I’m really just here as a representative for Kingsman. All we’ve discussed are policies as to how our organizations should cooperate.” There was a rustling in the background; maybe Harry was reading something? Very briefly Eggsy pictured Harry holding an old tome of _Pride and Prejudice_ or something equally obnoxiously British, and he huffed out a laugh. “It’s an important topic,” Harry was saying, “but I honestly cannot wait to be through with it.”

 _And to be back home with you_ went unsaid, but Eggsy could hear it in his voice. For the second time that night he buried his face in his pillow, feeling himself start to blush.

“I miss you,” he blurted out.

Eggsy heard a book snap shut, and then Harry said, “Oh, darling. I miss you too.” His whole body warmed at the sincerity in his partner’s voice.

“It’s ‘ard not to think about you, when you’re away,” admitted Eggsy. With his free hand he picked at a loose thread in their sheets.

“Indeed?” Something in Harry’s voice had an edge to it now-- the _good_ kind of edge, something teasing. It was the closest he got to actually sounding flirtatious. “And what do you think about, exactly?”

Shit. That was an invitation if he ever heard one. Eggsy wet his lips, heat curling in the pit of his stomach. “Well,” he began, drawing the syllable out as he wracked his brain for the right words. “I think about the two of us, together. I think about the parts a’you I miss most.” Here he laughed, a grin spreading across his face. “Not that I don’t love _every_ part of you.”

The silence he was met with seemed expectant somehow, and so he continued. “I think about your hands,” Eggsy said, holding one of his one above his head and watching the tendons flex. “D’you know you have nice hands?” He thought he heard Harry laugh under his breath at that. “Well you do,” he insisted. “They’re big, but they’re- they’re kinda graceful too? An’ you always know how to use ‘em.

I think about the grey bits in your hair, the ones you hate so much, but I love it. Makes you look dignified. And, and how you look when you’re focused on something, you get this sort of crease between your eyebrows. Like whatever you’re doin’ requires all that attention at once.” Eggsy took a deep breath, staring intently at the ceiling again. “How good you look in your suit,” he said suggestively. “An’ I think of your voice. I always think of that.”

“You have my voice now,” came Harry’s response. He sounded the way he sometimes looked when Eggsy teased him, when his gaze darkened with interest, making him seem predatory. The thought made Eggsy shiver.

“Dear boy,” Harry said then. “Would you like to hear what _I_ think of you?”

Eggsy swallowed hard and nodded-- then realized Harry wasn't able to see his reaction and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“I think of all of you, as well,” Harry murmured, his words careful in his mouth. “Of your smile, and your quick wit that everyone is so surprised to hear.” The amusement was evident in his voice when he continued, “Perhaps your accent lends itself to a certain stereotype.

I think of your ridiculous fashion sense. I’ve always been baffled by it; your body is clearly flattered more by our suits.” A pause. “You look even better when halfway out of yours,” he added, almost as an afterthought. There was heat behind his words now.

Eggsy made a pleading noise in the back of his throat. “How about right now?” he asked. The slow, deliberate way Harry was breaking him down was almost too much; he felt entirely too open, even without Harry’s eye on him. He needed the tension to break.

There was more rustling in the background; was he climbing into bed? Was he trying to alleviate the ache in his body just as Eggsy was, pressing his hips down against the soft sheets?

When Harry spoke again, his voice sounded rough around the edges. “I’m thinking of how I'd very much like to take you apart,” he said, “piece by piece, until you were left with nothing.”

Eggsy groaned into his pillow. “Yeah?” he replied breathlessly.

“You look beautiful when you come undone.” The honesty in the statement made it even hotter somehow, and Eggsy felt a shudder travel down his spine. He took a few deep breaths, and when he focused on Harry’s words again he was saying, “I want you to do something for me, Eggsy.”

“Anything.” His heart was beating hard against his ribcage, his cock trapped between his belly and the soft, white expanse of their bed. “Anything for you.”

A low, pleased sound. Then silence, as though Harry was considering his words carefully. “Are you on your hands and knees, darling?” he asked. “Are your thighs spread for me?”

Eggsy practically scrambled into the position that had been described. He bit his lip, feeling exposed despite the fact that he was alone. “Yeah, Daddy,” he breathed, and was rewarded with another quiet noise of satisfaction.

“Posing so nicely,” Harry praised. “I can picture it perfectly. You, looking over your shoulder, watching as I fuck you on my fingers.”

It felt like a punch in the gut: Eggsy’s toes curled and he reached a hand down between his legs. God, just hearing Harry’s voice was fucking with his head. Those words were a hundred times more potent this way, the high class accent making each one as delicate and deadly as a knife’s edge. As he wrapped his fingers around his cock, Harry spoke again. “Would you be good for me, Eggsy? Or would you prefer to fight against my grip even as I held you still, one hand pressed to your nape?” All of a sudden the man sounded infinitely closer, like his lips were mere inches from Eggsy’s ear. “I would hardly be averse to punishing you.”

“God--” That was a _good_ idea. An unfairly good one. But Eggsy was so worked up already, dripping precum onto the sheets as he used his free hand to palm his own chest. Punishment would have to wait. “I’ll be good,” he gasped out. “God, I’ll be so good for you, Harry.”

“Sweet boy,” crooned Harry. “That deserves a reward.” Eggsy thought he heard a stifled groan, and the image of Harry with those unfairly beautiful, slender fingers wrapped around his own cock was almost too much. “What would you prefer?” More rustling noises; they mirrored the sound of Eggsy’s sheets perfectly, crinkling as he rolled his hips in a steady rhythm. “That I lick you open, make you come with nothing but my tongue? Or would you like a nice, hard fuck?”

It was amazing how Harry could make even profanity sound elegant. “The second one, ah, please--” Eggsy was close, he could tell, even though they’d only been at it for a couple minutes. Jesus.

“You’d best be prepared, then. Once I’m home, you won’t be leaving that bed until I’m finished with you.” Harry’s words were finally losing their razor-sharp edge, and underneath that veneer of calm Eggsy could hear the shake in his voice. “What a beautiful picture you’ll make, stuffed with cock and spread out beneath me.”

The two of them finished almost simultaneously, Eggsy with a wanton moan that his pillow failed to muffle. Vaguely he registered that he might be drooling onto the sheets, but he couldn’t care less, not when every part of him _burned_ in the wake of his orgasm. He could hear Harry panting on the other end of the line, harsh breaths punctuated by quiet moans. Eggsy wasn’t sure that he’d ever listened to Harry this closely before, and he was enamored. His cock even gave an interested twitch at the sound of that voice, normally so smooth and even, losing its composure completely.

“M’holding you to that promise,” He mumbled after a minute, rolling onto his side to avoid the mess he’d made of the bed sheets.

“By all means,” Harry said, and Eggsy could hear the smile in his voice. He didn’t miss the way heat still curled around the man’s words as he added, “This mission can’t end soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add this one to the "sappy prompts" list too, at least for that beginning bit. I meant to get right to the porn, but my feelings got in the way lol. :''^D


	14. In the shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little gap in updates there. Back at it again with the Hartwin porn! ;^D

If Harry was being honest, nothing felt better than completing a mission and getting to take the longest, hottest shower imaginable. He was certain he wasn’t the first Kingsman agent to spend an exorbitant amount of time cleaning off all the blood and grime after a debriefing. As he stepped through the door, finally home after a long assignment in Brazil, all Harry could think about was the moment he’d get to strip out of his suit and  _ relax. _

“That bad, huh?” Eggsy asked when he summed up his mission with a single displeased groan. He watched in amusement as Harry-- rather uncharacteristically-- tossed his jacket over a nearby chair and dropped his suitcase near the kitchen table.

“I find it hard to believe that a drug ring  _ that  _ massive couldn’t afford to invest in some basic cleaning supplies,” complained Harry. “There I am, playing the part of the wealthy patron, and a  _ rat  _ runs across the floor and over my Oxfords.” He buried his face in his hands, one scrubbing none too gently at his good eye. God, he could sleep for a week.

Eggsy made a sympathetic noise and set down the book he’d been reading. “Must’ve been ‘ard, a gentleman like you surrounded by all those grimy assholes.” His tone of voice was only half-joking, it seemed, and he stood on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth.

“Indeed.” Briefly combing a hand through the younger man’s hair, Harry glanced back towards the foyer. “And now it is time for me to finally, properly bathe.”

A muffled laugh against his chest. “Here we go,” Eggsy announced. “We’ll be out of hot water for th’next _week_ once you’re finished.”

“I hardly take  _ that _ long, I should think,” replied Harry in mock indignation. With a final press of his palm between Eggsy’s shoulder blades, he pulled away and strode out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs. “I’ll be out before you know it,” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that!”

Undressing was normally a very meticulous process for Harry. Though he often denied it when met with Eggsy’s teasing, he really  _ was  _ a neat freak. He preferred to remove his suit and various Kingsman accessories individually, placing them aside so that they could be easily found the next morning. 

On days after missions like this one, though, he ditched his routine entirely. Unbuttoning his suit with a practiced hand, he shrugged it off his shoulders as his other hand unlaced his shoes. His tie was undone and his shoulder holsters were loosened just a few seconds later. Everything was beginning to form an unceremonious pile on the floor as he finally stepped out of his slacks, pulled off his socks, and walked into the bathroom in just his briefs. Those were peeled off too and left on the rug. The only thing Harry bothered to set aside gently, placing them on the porcelain vanity, were his glasses.

When he stepped into the shower and was hit with a stream of hot water, he moaned in satisfaction. Immediately all of his sore muscles seemed to relax, the tension melting out of him, washing down the drain with all the other sweat and dirt. Already he felt more at ease. Harry ran a hand through his wet hair and closed his eyes, happy to just stand there and let the water run down the length of his body.

He heard the sound of bare feet on the bathroom tile, and a moment later the shower door slid open to reveal Eggsy, stripped of all his clothing. “I came to check on you,” he explained; he was trying to sound serious but clearly failing, barely able to conceal his smile. “Just t’make sure you were gettin’ on alright.”

“Oh?” Harry took a step back, allowing Eggsy into the shower with him. “How thoughtful of you.”  When he leaned forward to close the door again, the two of them were pressed nearly chest to chest, Harry bent slightly at the waist as he reached over Eggsy’s shoulder. It was hard to miss the way the younger man’s eyes became hooded at their proximity. “Certainly there were no ulterior motives at work here, hm?”

“Now what makes you say that?” Eggsy replied with a grin, and then they were kissing.

For all the creativity the two of them had when it came to sex, they’d not once tried sex in the shower. It was different than in a bath, Harry mused as he pressed his tongue into Eggsy’s mouth. The constant beat of hot water against his shoulders and nape provided a nice complement to the heat coiling in his stomach. Being wet also meant that their hands slid easily over each other’s bodies. Nothing pleased Harry more than when he ran a palm down Eggsy’s spine-- one firm, fluid motion-- and felt him shudder and arch, his mouth falling open in a moan.

“If I wrap my legs ‘round your waist,” Eggsy breathed, “Think you can brace me against that wall?”

Harry’s smile must have been positively hungry. “If I fuck you that hard,” he replied, “Do you think you’ll be able to keep your legs from giving way?”

They ended up spending longer than anticipated in the shower. Later Harry would remark, his voice smug, that Eggsy had been just as at fault in this case. And if Eggsy ever tried to tease him for using up all the hot water again, well… they could always shower together. For efficiency’s sake, of course.


	15. Kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, for something a little different. This is meant to be a kind of intermission chapter or something?? I wrote from both Harry's and Eggsy's points of view to make it seem different enough. I dunno. Hope you like it!

Before they got together, Eggsy had always wondered how Harry would kiss. He remembered discussing it with Roxy while under the influence of way too many drinks. Discussing the scenario with her was hilarious just on principle: Eggsy’d never met someone so uninterested in men in his entire life.

“Y’think ‘e kisses like ‘e looks?” he’d asked, hardly giving a fuck about how thick his accent got when he drank.

Roxy had tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Composed, in control, sort of detached?” she listed off. She was lying on her bed in Kingsman headquarters, while Eggsy sprawled out on the floor below.

“Not th’last one, I hope,” Eggsy replied with a wince. “But yeah, y’think he keeps a cool head?” His mind began to wander almost immediately, picturing how Harry would take him apart with just a kiss, never breaking a sweat.

“Not sure.” She was remarkably composed, considering she’d matched Eggsy shot for shot-- literally. “Harry’s sort of mysterious, Eggsy. You can’t just take him at face value.”

When the time finally came, Eggsy didn’t forget what Roxy had said to him that night. Of course, she’d been completely right: Harry didn’t kiss how he looked. Or rather, he _could_ , but he was far more complex than that.

Harry kissed him so _gently._ It was like he was afraid Eggsy would disappear at any moment, or that he’d pull away and decide suddenly that no, sorry, he’d been wrong about the whole “I’m in love with you” thing. He kissed like a man who suddenly had something to lose, and was both elated and terrified at the thought. The hand cradling the nape of Eggsy’s neck helped to ground him, practically keeping upright when the rest of him felt miles away, because this was _really happening_. He was kissing Harry Hart, and even though it sounded sappy Eggsy couldn’t help but feel like part of him had been made whole.

As their relationship grew, he began to see other sides of Harry through their kisses. After a particularly dangerous mission the kiss had been fierce, desperate, Harry’s hands clutching his lapels and his voice whispering, “I can’t lose you like that.” When Eggsy teased him Harry would kiss almost hungrily, a tongue against his jaw his neck his chest, down, down further. It didn’t take long for Eggsy to make a mental catalogue of what kinds of comments would result in _that_ reaction.

And on a night when they actually had time to relax and enjoy themselves, Harry kissed the way Eggsy had expected all along: like he was trying to take Eggsy apart with every touch, with every brush of their lips. His mouth pressed to a pulse point in Eggsy’s neck, forming a grin when the light pressure coaxed out a breathless gasp.

Eggsy realized fairly quickly how impossible it was to pin Harry into one category, like he’d tried to do all that time ago. He didn’t mind in the slightest.

\---

 _How would he kiss, I wonder?_ Harry found himself musing one evening. He and Eggsy were standing in his office, Eggsy trying for the first time to mix a perfect martini, brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration. The thought came to Harry quite suddenly and, just like that, he knew he was fucked.

Harry was not one for attachments; in fact, his entire life had been spent remaining as attachment-free as possible. In his line of work, he had always found it easier to just avoid complex relationships on principle. There was no worry of how someone might react, then, to their significant other being a secret spy for the most powerful espionage organization in the country.

That fairly transparent excuse became completely irrelevant, of course, when the individual you were interested in happened to be part of the _same_ organization.

“Alright, Harry?” Eggsy had asked. He’d finished mixing his drink and was looking to his mentor expectantly, face completely open.

Harry took a steadying breath through his nose. “Of course,” he lied. “Now let’s test your martini, shall we?”

Before he had time to consider his options, he died. Even after being rescued by the Statesmen, Harry Hart as he’d once been was still dead-- and it wasn’t until Eggsy appealed to his deeply buried memories that he returned to his old self. When the younger man wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck in a relieved hug, face buried in Harry’s shoulder, he felt at peace. It was an almost alien sensation.

Their first kiss made him feel the same way. Eggsy’s lips were soft, as he’d expected and imagined them to be; though he knew Eggsy was anything but fragile, he seemed that way in the moment. Fragile, and hopeful, and in love. God, if Harry ever hurt this man he would never forgive himself.

Very quickly, Harry found he enjoyed all forms of Eggy’s affection. How handsy he got when he was happy, when he would bound up to Harry in the hallway and stand on his tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, his jaw, at the corner of his mouth. How his expression would go almost feline when he found some new way to tease Harry. Sometimes the smile wouldn’t leave his face for hours-- until they were suddenly kissing, and then it was replaced by the press of teeth and lips in just the right places. And even though it made his chest ache, Harry loved the way Eggsy kissed when he was upset, the way he’d press against Harry’s chest and make quiet, needy noises. Those were usually reserved for nights when the two of them were alone, wrapped up in bed together, plagued by thoughts of past mistakes.

And despite all this-- despite the whirlwind that was their lives-- there were always moments when Eggsy would kiss him gently, just like he had that very first time. And during those moments, Harry would be at peace.


	16. Sex toys

If he ever managed to escape this meeting alive, Eggsy was going to fucking _kill_ Harry.

Of course, it wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for this to happen. It had all started when one morning, Harry had walked into the kitchen at breakfast with his hands behind his back and a strange look on his face.

“Eggsy?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, love?”

“I don’t mean to pry--” Eggsy snorted at that, because of _course_ Harry would be concerned about prying even after he’d had his cock up Eggsy’s ass-- “but I found something in your things. The boxes, from when you moved in.” And then from behind his back he pulled out a dildo.

Immediately Eggsy had felt himself color, even as a grin had formed on his face. Really, how _couldn’t_ he grin at the sight of Harry Hart, dressed in his bespoke suit and all, brandishing a glittery pink dildo in one of his well-manicured hands? “Ah, yeah,” he said, trying to sound conversational. “Bought that one a long time ago. Nothin’ too fancy, cause I couldn’t afford much back when I was livin’ with Dean and me mum.” With a bat of his eyelashes he added, “Haven’t needed to use it recently, though. I’ve got you.”

Harry’s expression darkened in interest even as a flush crept up from under his crisp, white collar. “I see,” he said. He sounded like he was planning something: both a terrible and wonderful sign.

Which was how Eggsy found himself, several weeks later, sitting in the Kingsman briefing room with a vibe wedged inside him. He was flattered, really, that Harry had spent decent money on something as trivial as a sex toy. But at the same time…

He swore he could hear the buzzing as the vibe kicked up a second notch, making Eggsy jerk slightly in his seat. _Jesus_ , fuck. This was already nearly impossible. From across the table he could see Harry watching him, a decidedly mischievous look in his good eye. The fucker.

“Problem, Eggsy?” Merlin asked.

When Eggsy met his gaze he tried hard not to look too guilty. Merlin practically had a sixth sense for when anyone was fucking around during a meeting, and the last thing he wanted was for the man to know the details of his current situation. “Nah, sorry,” Eggsy lied, voice nearly catching on his apology as the vibe changed settings again. Now it was doing some sort of crazy pattern, beating an irregular rhythm against his insides. Eggsy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. “I’m fine.”

He sounded about as far from fine as possible, but Merlin let it slide. _Thank God_ , Eggsy thought, visibly relaxing in his chair as the focus was finally turned away from him. One of these days Merlin _was_ gonna call them out on their bullshit, just to spite them, and they’d never hear the end of it.

Harry, meanwhile, sat there in his armchair looking infuriatingly composed, hands folded neatly in his lap as he feigned interest in their briefing. Once or twice Eggsy caught Harry’s eye flicking his way, accompanied by a brief smile. Eggsy had to fight not to flip him the bird while Merlin had his back turned. As he was considering trying it anyway, other agents and Merlin be damned, the vibe setting changed _again._

“Gh--” Eggsy half-swallowed his moan, bending slightly forward in an attempt to alleviate the heat building in the pit of his stomach. Hopefully to the other agents it just looked like he’d sneezed or some bullshit, and not that his fucking _insane_ boyfriend was screwing him with a vibrator in the middle of their top secret spy meeting. God, when had this become Eggsy’s life?

“Are you alright, Gareth?” said one of the agents. Percival, Eggsy thought, though he couldn’t exactly tell, what with the blood pounding in his ears.

“Yeah, I’m, uh.” Eggsy swallowed, his voice sounding thick and gummy from arousal. “Just feelin’ a little sick. Think that last mission did a number on me.”

There was a noncommittal response to his left: amusement, thinly veiled by sympathy. _Roxy,_ Eggsy thought frustratedly, and then, _fuck off_ , just in case she had the same sixth sense as Merlin and could somehow read his mind.

“Perhaps Gareth should step out for a moment,” Harry piped in. He still looked just as smug as he had several minutes ago, and Eggsy tossed him a _look_ that he hoped got the point across without being too obvious.

“You’re dismissed, Eggsy,” Merlin said without another thought. “Come back when you feel well enough to participate.”

Eggsy nodded, feeling relieved but also a bit embarrassed at being sent away like a petulant child. Thank God his suit jacket was cut low over his hips; it hid any evidence of his _issues_ from the others as he stood and quickly left the briefing room.

As soon as he was out the doors, Eggsy had a finger on his spectacles and was ringing Harry. “You cheeky bastard,” he hissed, even as a manic sort of grin spread across his face. He was breathing open mouthed now, savoring the feeling of the toy inside him instead of dreading it. In the briefing room there had been a fine line between enjoyment and just straight up embarrassment. Harry had balanced that beautifully for him, but that didn’t mean Eggsy wasn’t glad to now be free of the awkward stares of his colleagues.

No response from Harry, of course, who was still in the meeting. Or, wait-- after a moment a little text box appeared on his screen, containing only a winky face.

Eggsy laughed aloud at that, grin broadening as he pushed open the door to his office and then locked it behind him. “Like I said,” he drawled, “ _cheeky bastard._ ” He walked around his desk, unbuttoning his slacks as he went. By the time he rested his suit-clad elbows on the desk’s surface, he was bare from waist to just below his knee.

“Come on, now,” he teased. The vibe had settled to a much slower pace while he’d made his escape, and Eggsy found himself missing its harsh rhythm. “Don’t leave me hanging, Daddy.”

Harry didn’t disappoint. Eggsy’s hips stuttered as the vibe jumped from its first setting to its second, third, fourth, and just like that he found himself gasping, thighs trembling as they held his weight. “God,” he moaned, glasses knocked askew as he pressed his cheek to the desk. He felt a thrill run through him as he saw Harry shift in his seat, the whole line of his body tense. Reaching back to press a few fingers against the base of the vibe, angling it against his prostate, Eggsy choked out, “More, _please_ Harry.”

The vibe kicked up get another notch, settling on a rumbling sort of pattern that Eggsy could feel in his fucking _bones._ Very briefly his eyes crossed, spots dancing on the backs of his eyelids. His free hand grasped desperately for his cock, flushed and leaking precome over his knuckles. Once more the setting changed-- back to the irregular rhythm from the meeting room, the one that turned his whole body to jelly-- and with a twist of his wrist Eggsy was gone.

His vision whited out completely for a moment. He wasn’t capable of doing much more than panting open mouthed against the cool table top, hips twitching erratically, cock throbbing in his hand. As the world came into focus again, he spotted another message from Harry on his glasses.

_Good boy._

Fuck. Eggsy swallowed hard, scrubbing his free hand against his forehead. He felt his dick twitch in interest at the praise. _Yeah, okay,_ he thought, _Harry is going to fucking_ get _it once he’s out of that meeting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >B^D


	17. Winged AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez this is a long one-- at least it felt long when I was writing it. I hope that makes up for me posting late again! :'''^)
> 
> And just as a side note, all of the chapters APART from these AU ones kind of take place in the same universe? Like, anything without "AU" in the chapter heading is the same general timeline. Or something. I dunno. That's what I was shooting for, anyway.

Eggsy Unwin was a late bloomer, though most people didn’t notice at first glance. What he lacked in height-- something he was _all_ too aware of, thanks for noticing-- he made up for with his square jaw and toned muscle. His marine training was obvious in the way he held himself, and he had self-confidence in spades. Eggsy supposed that most people often took one look at him and dismissed him as just another pleb, someone with a rough background and a batshit fashion sense but not much else. Nothing really strange going on there.

And yet every morning he woke up and looked in the mirror, and was painfully reminded of the fact that his fucking wings _still hadn’t grown in yet._

Oh sure, they were definitely _there_ \-- they just resembled a plucked chicken more than the proper wings he was supposed to have by now. His plumage was seagull, his mum had told him years ago: just like his dad. What Eggsy wouldn’t give to actually fucking see his feathers, instead of just imagining them.

It was probably a combination of multiple things. For one, marine training wasn’t exactly a walk in the fucking park. Stress was an issue they had dealt with daily; considering Eggsy had come from an unhappy home to boot, he was probably worse off than most when training began. Then of course he’d had to quit, and had returned home to live with Mum and Daisy and fuckin’ _Dean_ , who didn’t make his life any easier. No, Eggsy had not gotten his nickname from his ridiculous half-grown wings. No, he did not want to be reminded of it every time he walked through the door. But he also didn’t particularly want to be shanked for standing up for himself, nor did he want his mum or sister to suffer, so he kept his mouth resolutely shut.

If he’d talked to some teacher about it back in secondary school, they would’ve said something about his environment “not being conducive to healthy wing development.” Eggsy would’ve said something rude in reply, because of _course_ it wasn’t. He didn’t need a professional to tell him that. The question was, what was he going to do about it?

And then, into his life walked Harry Hart, and the Kingsman right along with him.

If he was being honest, Harry had seemed like a bit of a wanker at first. It was hard not to judge him that way: honestly, an older man dressed as well as _he_ was, with a pair of fucking _eagle wings_ pressed neatly to his back? Jesus, way to show everyone else up without even trying.

Then he’d agreed to go for drinks with Eggsy-- who was grudgingly grateful he’d been bailed out of jail so quickly-- and that first impression immediately changed. When Harry had finally officially offered to make Eggsy his Kingsman recruit, there had been no question as to how Eggsy would reply. Sure, maybe he did feel a little ridiculous at first, standing next to all the other recruits with their perfectly groomed wings and posh outfits. But now Eggsy finally had what he needed: another chance to prove himself. And he wasn’t about to fuck it up again.

“Are you sure we ain’t got somethin’ in medical that’ll help with all this?” Eggsy complained one day, sprawled in a chair in Harry’s home office. To his excitement, his wings were finally losing the last of their stupid fluff, revealing the proper feathers growing underneath. The only downside was that it was _itchy_ , which was absolutely driving him up the fucking wall.

“I doubt it,” Harry said mildly, eyes still trained on his paperwork. “Nature must run its course, as they say.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Git,” he replied. It was a mild insult, and made the corners of Harry’s mouth turn up in a quick smile. Eggsy felt himself warm at the positive reaction; something about getting Harry to smile always made his stomach twist itself in knots. Probably a bad sign, he thought. Falling for his mentor-- his devastatingly attractive and poised mentor-- had to be some kind of taboo.

When Harry didn’t say anything more, Eggsy took to inspecting his surroundings. He always enjoyed reading through all the tabloids that were pinned up on the walls. It was funny to him that Harry stressed the importance of a Kingsman’s secrecy, and that their actions should always remain a mystery to the public, yet he decorated his office like _this._ The older spy had a streak of vanity that Eggsy probably shouldn’t have found so endearing. That, and-- judging by his ridiculously large collection of dead butterflies-- he was also a bit of a kleptomaniac.

His train of thought was interrupted when his wings brushed gently against the back of his chair, knocking off a bit more down. Immediately they started itching again, and Eggsy groaned in frustration, leaning forward in his chair to stretch them. Momentarily he admired the newly-grown feathers, pure white and tipped in black. His wingspan wasn’t too shabby either. Then with one hand he reached around behind his back, slipping his fingers under some feathers to get at a really irritating spot. As his feathers grew in they did more than itch; they sort of hurt too, in a weird and needling sort of way, like his wings were covered in little paper cuts. Eggsy winced at the thought.

“Eggsy.” Harry was leveling him with an exasperated look. “Don’t do that, you could irritate them more.”

Eggsy made a face. “Well I can’t sit here and not do anything about it,” he groused. “Honestly, Harry, this is driving me mental.”

Setting down his pen and leaning back in his chair, Harry let out a long-suffering sigh. The expression on his face wasn’t unkind though; he looked amused, but was clearly trying to hide it. “Come on then, Eggsy,” he said, suddenly getting to his feet. His huge, sleek wings tucked themselves against his back. Briefly Eggsy thought about the difficulties of having wings that big-- did they ever get caught on doorframes, or anything?-- before he was jumping up from his seat to follow Harry out of the office.

They made their way downstairs and into the living room, stopping in front of the couch. “Lie down here,” Harry instructed.

“Uh, Harry,” Eggsy said as he lowered himself onto the couch. “What is it you got planned, exactly?” He willed himself not to redden at the thought of Harry _distracting_ him from his discomfort, and failed almost immediately. Behind him, his wings shuffled together in embarrassment.

There was a smile in Harry’s voice as he replied, “Grooming. It will help immensely, I promise you.”

 _Grooming?_ Jesus. Eggsy was almost positive there was more to that response; touching someone else’s wings wasn’t something you just _did._ It was kind of a boundaries thing that came with a whole list of rules and etiquette. It was something intimate. The thought made Eggsy color even more, and he mentally berated himself for lying there and gawking like an idiot.

“Sounds good to me,” he drawled, tossing Harry a look over his shoulder. If the man was gonna proposition him like this, Eggsy wasn’t about to act oblivious. He spread out his left wing, leaving his right folded against the back of the couch, and said, “Like this?”

Harry gave him an appraising look that made him shiver. “Perfect.” The couch sank a bit as his mentor settled beside him, one thigh pressed to Eggsy’s side. “Just relax your muscles,” Harry instructed him gently. God, just the sound of his voice had Eggsy melting deeper into the couch cushion. It was _amazing._ He propped his head up on his arm as he watched Harry roll up his shirtsleeves, revealing several inches of each forearm. That patch of skin shouldn’t be so interesting, Eggsy mused, but his eyes were drawn to it and then Harry’s hands were pressing between his shoulder blades and _oh._

“You see,” Harry’s voice told him, “as your wings continue to grow the muscles can become cramped. That, combined with your new feathers, can make the whole process unbearable.” There was a quiet huff of laughter as he added, “You should have seen me when my plumage was coming in. I was quite the terror. No one wanted to spend more than five minutes with me.”

“Find that hard to believe,” Eggsy said thickly. Why did his tongue feel like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth? It probably had something to do with the way Harry’s fingertips were skimming over his wing, pressing at the aching joints and forcing them to relax. Shit, he had it bad.

“I was rather like you, in fact. I sulked quite a lot until all my feathers had grown.”

“Fuck off, Harry.” The insult was halfhearted at best, and was made even more ineffective by the grin on Eggsy’s face.

Harry smiled back, innocent as could be, and then dragged his fingers down along the wing until they reached its base. “You say that,” he teased, “but I think you’re enjoying the attention.”

Enjoying was probably an understatement. When Harry’s thumb pressed against the joint where wing met shoulder, Eggsy outright _groaned_ into the couch. He probably shouldn’t have been getting hard because of this, but hey, how else was he meant to react when Harry fucking Hart was stroking his wings with those perfect hands of his? It was downright unfair.

All of a sudden the touching stopped, and Harry was saying, “Your other wing, now.”

His limbs felt shaky and boneless, but Eggsy managed to change positions without much trouble. He shuffled around awkwardly in the hopes that Harry may not notice just how affected he was by this whole grooming process. With a sigh of relief, Eggsy sank back into the couch and stretched out his other wing.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. When he looked up at Harry his eyes were warm-- warm with a bit of an edge, something that Eggsy would have called lust in any other situation. With Harry, though, he wasn’t sure. What he _did_ know was that it made him feel vulnerable in the best sort of way.

“Perhaps,” Harry said slowly after a moment, “removing your shirt would help me to better reach your wings.”

Eggsy took in a slow, steadying breath. Jesus, Harry was going to be the death of him, whether he realized it or not. But taking off his shirt sounded like a fucking _fantastic_ idea, so he propped himself up just enough to tug it off over his head and wings. It took some maneuvering, but after a moment he was bare-chested, back to lying on the couch beneath Harry’s intense gaze. “Better?” he asked. Hopefully his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt.

“Much.” Then Harry’s hands were on him again, this time one at each shoulder joint. Eggsy felt his fingers searching for the tender spots under his wings and pressing down. The dull pain made him press his hips into the couch in search of relief, and he felt a flush begin to creep down his neck and over his shoulders. Harry would definitely be able to see that, then.

When Harry’s fingers shifted just slightly, adjusting their angle to better reach the muscle, Eggsy couldn’t stop a quiet, surprised “ah!” from escaping him. Want curled in his stomach, hot and thorny. And just like that, he decided to stop playing coy. He tilted his head to the side, revealing his parted lips and the sharp line of his jaw. “ _Harry_ ,” he pleaded. He didn’t need to feign his interest at all: if the tension in the room didn’t snap soon, Eggsy was going to lose his fucking mind.

All he caught was a flash of bright eyes before Harry was leaning in and pressing an open mouthed kiss to his lips.

Eggsy groaned into it, lifting himself partially off the couch and turning his upper body to get a better angle. God, this was perfect. It was everything he had wanted it to be and somehow better: the smell of Harry’s cologne, the press of one huge palm between Eggsy’s shoulder blades, the warmth radiating between them. As they broke apart Eggsy could see his chest rising and falling underneath his perfectly fitted dress shirt. The shoulder holsters definitely added to the picture, too, Eggsy admired. They stretched the fabric tight across Harry’s torso, drew attention to the broad line of his shoulders. And above their heads stretched his pair of huge, dark wings, forming a canopy of sleek feathers.

“Jesus,” Eggsy breathed, his voice almost reverent. “You’re so beautiful.”

Harry smiled, and Eggsy felt his heart jump in his chest. “As are you,” he replied, and it was clear he meant every word. His wings curled in above them, sheltering them from the rest of the room, tousling their hair.

Suddenly Eggsy had an _amazing_ idea. “Since you’ve helped me so much with my wing problem,” he began, “I think I should return the favor.”

At his offer, Harry’s eyes went impossibly darker, just a thing ring of brown visible around his blown pupils. “I would like that very much,” he said. His voice was rough and just as dark as his eyes, making a shiver run down Eggsy’s spine.

Eggsy would never forget the moment that Harry stood, hands slowly divesting himself of his holsters, shirt, and tie. Maybe it made him sound sappy, but the feeling of those sleek wings beneath his fingers was more beautiful than he could even begin to describe. And, if he was being honest, what came after wasn’t half bad either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool fact time! Eggsy's seagull wings would be proportionally about 1.5 times smaller than Harry's, or around there at least. Harry's got big wings not only because of his height, but because I gave him the plumage of a white-tailed eagle, the largest bird of prey found in England. B^)


	18. Sex pollen/aphrodisiacs

Just as Eggsy thought he’d seen everything, some target of theirs would come along and manage to surprise him. Usually in unpleasant and downright fucking _irritating_ ways. Sure, spy gadgets were cool and all when _you_ were the one using them. Not so much when some other bloke was giving you a taste of your own medicine.

Or, well, whatever the fuck this turned out to be.

“I’ve been hit,” Harry’s voice hissed through their comm link.

Eggsy cursed under his breath, immediately losing all interest in the punch bowl he’d been positioned next to. “Jesus, what happened?” He scanned the crowd intently for any sign of Harry. The older spy had gone into the restrooms just minutes ago, where he was supposed to place a bug that would pipe audio directly to Merlin’s tech room. Anything their target happened to say would be caught on the mic.

“The target has company,” Harry replied. “He came up behind me and got me in the neck with something before I could incapacitate him. I believe it was some sort of injection.” As he spoke Eggsy spotted him from across the room; it was hard to miss someone that tall. Abandoning his drink, he went to meet up with his partner.

Fortunately Harry didn’t seem to be any worse for wear: his expression was free from pain, at least, even if he did look a little miffed. “Do you feel anything?” Eggsy asked as he approached. Getting injected with an unknown substance was never good, and he felt his chest tightening in anxiety already.

Harry shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, head tilted slightly to the side, like he was thinking intently.

“Good, cause you keelin’ over in the middle of this poncy get-together is the last thing we need.”

He’d meant it as a joke, of course. But ten minutes later it stopped being funny and became a very real problem, because just as they entered stage three of their mission-- engage the target-- Eggsy felt a hand catch him by the wrist and turned to see Harry staring at him.

“Jesus,” he said before he could stop himself. Panic began to beat fast against his ribcage. “You look fuckin’ _awful._ ”

Harry shook his head in response, swallowing thickly. His skin had taken on a sort of sickly flush, like he had a fever, and his eyes had a glazed look to them behind his glasses. He probably just looked ill to their other guests, but to Eggsy it was a far worse sign. “We can’t compromise the mission,” he insisted. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much use, but you need to--”

“Bullshit,” both Eggsy and Merlin interrupted at the same time.

“Harry, we don’t know what you were injected with,” continued their tech support. “The priority becomes making sure you don’t drop dead. I’m calling off the mission.”

Eggsy nodded resolutely, giving Harry his best “can’t argue with this” face.

To his surprise, his partner only became more exasperated. “I know what this is,” he said fervently. His grip on Eggsy’s wrist tightened insistently, and he could’ve sworn Harry flushed darker when he added, “It’s an aphrodisiac.”

And in that moment, Eggsy’s mind went blank. Well, shit. This was definitely not how’d he’d been expecting things to go. “Uh, you sure about that?” he asked. “Not that I don’t believe you, but-- but what the fuck’s the _point_ of that?”

“I don’t think they were certain I was a threat. Drugging me ensures I’ll leave them alone, but won’t cause a scene that can be connected to them. Like an unconscious or dead body. Not good.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. It was hard to miss the way his vocabulary had steadily devolved as his explanation went on. “Need to get somewhere,” he supplied, unhelpfully. “To just-- just, _sit._ ”

Eggsy snorted. _Sit_ was probably not the verb he would’ve chosen in this situation. “Pretty sure the posh folks hosting this party have left the upstairs open to guests.” He grabbed hold of Harry’s upper arm gently, discreetly steering him towards the exit. The mansion’s layout was extravagant to a ridiculous degree: just outside the ballroom’s double doors was a set of two grand staircases, placed opposite each other. As he was doing reconnaissance earlier that night, Eggsy hadn’t missed the few couples who’d snuck off up to the upper floor, clearly planning on making use of the relative privacy.

Getting Harry up the stairs was a lot more difficult than it should have been-- not because he wasn’t cooperating, but because he’d seemed to have lost all coordination in his limbs. Not very helpful, considering the bloke was about seventy percent leg, and those were needed for him to climb the damn stairs. In the end Eggsy half carried him up to the second floor and ushered them into the nearest room. A guest bedroom, it seemed like. Perfect.

“You’ll be happy to know that your mic was planted successfully, at least,” interjected Merlin. “We should be able to get some valuable information from that.”

Closing the door behind them and locking it, then checking it again for good measure, Eggsy was about to respond to Merlin-- when he felt a hand fist itself in the back of his tux. He turned to see Harry looking at him, his eyes so, so bright in the dim glow of the fancy bedside lamp. “Eggsy,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like liquid heat down Eggsy’s spine, and then Harry was kissing him.

It stayed chaste and soft for about half a second before Harry’s mouth was opening, their teeth clacking together awkwardly. Despite their lack of coordination Eggsy was _not_ complaining. No fucking way. He pressed a hand to the nape of Harry’s neck, felt the sweat that had collected there and heard the older man groan at the touch. The hand at his back spasmed, shook.

Then all of a sudden they broke apart. Harry reeled away from him and Eggsy was left blinking, staring at an empty space between them. “Fuck,” he hissed. He had one palm pressed to one of his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. It would be an endearing image, Eggsy thought, if Harry wasn’t so visibly distressed. “Eggsy, I shouldn’t,” he pleaded, even though he looks about ready to crawl out of his fucking skin.

“You tosser,” Eggsy said fondly. He took a step closer, hands out in a calming gesture. “We’ve been together for months, an’ you’re worried I ain’t gonna wanna mess around when you’re like this?” Even if it was exasperating, the fact that Harry remained conscious about his consent while drugged out of his goddamn mind was kind of touching. Once he got close enough to rest his hands on Harry’s waist, Eggsy met his partner’s gaze and flashed him a grin. It was meant to be reassuring, but probably came across too sharp, too hungry, because damn. Harry was a sight like this.

“Then, w-will you please…” A swipe of a tongue across kiss-bitten lips. Harry’s eyes went hooded as he finished, “will you please get _on_ with it, Eggsy, and _fuck_ me.”

 _Don’t got to tell me twice,_ he thought, a bolt of heat running through him as he stretched up to press their mouths together again, Harry’s body practically melting against his. It was an awkward angle, with someone so tall draped over him bonelessly, making his spine arch back, but fuck, was it good.

Pressing Harry into the bed was kind of difficult, with how much he was writhing under Eggsy’s touch. They broke apart momentarily to strip, Eggsy standing at the foot of the bed and Harry lying sprawled on the sheets. “This damned suit jacket,” he growled between panting breaths, “is too fucking hot.” His normally graceful fingers were fumbling over the buttons. The only thing preventing him from just ripping the jacket open, Eggsy guessed, was his horror at the thought of ruining such an expensive outfit. Harry could be such a vain bastard sometimes.

Eggsy laughed aloud at the comment; not that Harry was averse to foul language, but he wasn’t usually so free with it. Nor did he normally break his polite, composed tone, even when delivering the dirtiest of insults.

“Startin’ to sound like me, babe,” he teased, face hurting from how much he was smiling. Seconds later he was on the bed, straddling Harry’s still-clothed legs, the fabric of their slacks rubbing together.

Harry gave him a look that seemed like he’d meant to roll his eyes-- instead his eyes rolled _back_ as Eggsy rutted against him. The hard line of his cock was painfully visible through his fitted clothes. It was a fucking beautiful view, but Eggsy was pretty sure that if he didn’t do something soon then Harry was actually going to combust. Harry himself seemed to echo that sentiment, hands tugging him closer but also pushing him away, trying to get at the buttons on his slacks, hips moving in tense little circles.

Their movements became urgent and almost clumsy as Harry stripped the rest of the way and Eggsy forced him onto his back. He accepted three fingers into his mouth without a second thought, eyes fluttering closed, tongue pressing warm and wet between the digits. Fuck, now _Eggsy_ felt like the one who’d been drugged.

The very same fingers were used to spread Harry open at a leisurely pace. One brush of Eggsy’s free hand against his cock had him coming for the first time that night. “Hardly even touched you, really,” Eggsy commented brightly. Through his fierce blush and glazed expression, Harry still managed to shoot him a dirty look. It disappeared as soon as the fingers inside him started moving again; Harry’s spine practically turned to liquid, one arm tossed over his forehead, one long leg coming up to hook itself over Eggsy’s bare shoulder. He still had his shoes on, Eggsy realized, and those fucking socks with their stupid, fancy garters that shouldn't have been hot but _were_.

“You this greedy for it all the time?” Eggsy found himself asking, grin still sharp on his face. “Just needed a little push to get you going?”

His comment wasn’t graced with a response, but judging by the jump of Harry’s throat and the way his muscles fluttered around Eggsy’s fingers, he could guess how his partner felt.

Harry came again when the digits curled inside him and pressed _hard_ against his prostate. His whole body jerked, come staining his belly for a second time, but he didn’t soften hardly at all. Eggsy could feel his mouth watering at the sight.

The slide of his cock into Harry’s body was smooth, and far easier than it should have been. Even so, Eggsy had to grit his teeth as he willed himself not to come on the spot. Aphrodisiacs clearly raised a person’s core body temperature, because there was no fucking way Harry’s insides were this _hot_ on a regular basis. Eggsy had fucked him before, and it’d never been like this, with the way it made his head swim and his vision waver.

At his first hard thrust, the two of them moaned in tandem. “Fuck,” Eggsy ground out. Sweat was pooling in the dip of his back, just as it was in the hollow of Harry’s throat and the crease of his thighs. Putting their nice suits back on after this was going to be fucking disgusting. “Harry, God, you look so gorgeous.”

Again, no coherent response: just a vague sound tumbling out of Harry’s wrecked throat. His fingers were fisted tightly in the crisp, white sheets, hands shaking at each roll of Eggsy’s hips. “Harder,” he managed to get out. “Jesus, Eggsy, please--”

Hunger coiled tight in the pit of his stomach as he tilted forward, bending Harry almost in half as he aimed for the perfect angle. Eggsy knew he’d found it when the tight heat around him clenched even tighter. “God, _there--_ ” He fought to keep his rhythm from stuttering, even as his vision went unfocused, the image of Harry’s lust-slackened face going a bit blurry.

They kissed, hard and hot with all tongue and teeth, glasses clacking together awkwardly, when Harry bucked up into the cradle of Eggsy’s hips and finished for a third time.

Fuck, that was it. He’d hung on this long enough, but with the way Harry went wild beneath him, chasing his orgasm, panting into Eggy’s mouth, he gave in. Eggsy groaned and allowed his vision to finally white out.

When he regained his senses, Harry was still shifting restlessly underneath him.

“Jesus.” Eggsy pressed his tongue and teeth just under Harry’s jaw. He tasted like sweat and sex and the remains of expensive cologne. “You ain’t done yet?” Sure enough, when he Eggsy pulled back he could see the way Harry’s cock was still twitching in half-hearted interest. At least it looked slightly less painful now. It was nowhere near the bright, flushed shade of red it had been before they’d fucked.

“M’afraid not,” Harry slurred. His eyes were half-lidded and still had that sickly shine to them. They looked teary, like he’d been crying, and Eggsy was surprised at how appealing that thought was to him. Fuck, being with Harry was making him realize all sorts of kinky shit about himself. Not that he was complaining.

Eggsy pulled out with a quiet groan, thighs still twitching with the aftershocks. “You gotta give me a minute,” he said, “but in the meantime…” He grinned, sliding down the bed until Harry was once again lying with his legs sprawled out. With one hand, Eggsy eased his thighs apart to get at his pink, twitching hole. Above him there was a sharp intake of breath. “In the meantime,” Eggsy repeated, his voice rough from use, “I can think of some other ways to keep you busy.”

In the end, it took nearly an hour to completely work the drug out of Harry’s system. When his symptoms finally diminished, and they finally collapsed side by side on the bed, Eggsy felt like he could sleep for a fucking _week._

“I need a smoke,” Harry said faintly, voice wavering in the silence of the room.

Eggsy snorted. “You don’t smoke, bruv.”

There was a quiet “hm” in response. Harry said, “Not normally, no. But for something like this, I'd make an exception.”

“Yeah well, don’t go makin’ a habit o--” Suddenly Eggsy was met with a realization. “Hang on. Before all this shit started, you said you _knew_ what this was. You mean you been drugged like this _before_?”

Next to him, Harry huffed out a laugh. “Never a dull day with Kingsman,” he said wryly. “You’d be surprised at the things I’ve dealt with.”

Eggsy shook his head as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. “You know what, Harry? I don’t think I would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll level with y'all: bottom Harry is my one true weakness. ://^)


	19. In front of a mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some abuse of Fitting Room #3? B^)

“Remember that shit you said about popping my cherry, back when I was new?”

“Of course.”

Eggsy grinned, their eyes meeting in the fitting room mirror. “Never thought you’d actually make good on that promise.”

In response Harry gave a wry smile, and pressed a third finger into Eggsy’s body. He watched hungrily as the younger man’s mouth went slack, eyes unfocused, his weight shifting forward to lean against the cool, reflective surface. “I believe we’ve fucked too many times for this to really count as popping your cherry,” he said mildly. His fingers flexed as he spoke, working Eggsy open, drawing moans from his parted lips. For a brief moment Harry wished those sounds weren’t muffled by Eggsy’s (horrible, gaudy) jacket, but then he thought better of it. Their fellow agents currently in the shop wouldn’t take kindly to such a… display.

Instead he focused on pressing his fingers hard against Eggsy’s prostate, and was surprised to hear the young man give a desperate whine at Harry’s previous comment. Interesting.

“Unless you’d prefer to imagine it that way,” he said lowly. No doubt Eggsy could feel Harry’s breath against his nape, judging by the way he was shivering.

The response he received was a quiet but emphatic, “ _Fuck._ ”

Harry met his own gaze in the mirror and couldn’t prevent himself from grinning. He looked half mad, surely, but he wasn’t in any position to complain. Not when Eggsy was pressed against him like this, already threatening to shake apart. “I see,” he teased lightly. “You like that thought, do you, darling? Of being taken for the first time here, in front of this mirror? Forced to watch as I ravished you?”

There was a low groan as Eggsy buried his face in his arm, obscuring it from view. Well, that would have to change. Harry tsked quietly, pulling his fingers out and rubbing Eggsy’s hip gently as he whined at the loss. “Patience,” he chided.

“Patience, my ass,” came the muffled complaint.

Harry laughed. “Just as vulgar as when I first met you,” he commented. There was a quiet click as he unbuckled his belt, sliding his slacks down around his thighs. “I wonder how impatient you would have been then, if I’d stretched you this thoroughly.”

“Fuck, Harry--” A gasp as Harry placed a hand on Eggsy’s ass, spreading him open. “You know I been gaggin’ for it since I-- s-since I first saw you.” He pulled away from the mirror, propping himself against it with his elbows. At this angle their eyes were able to meet in the reflection; he could see that the blue of Eggsy’s irises had darkened, swallowed up by lust-blown pupils.

Forgoing any witty response he might have had, Harry tightened his grip on Eggsy’s hips and pressed in-- moving almost painfully slowly-- until their bodies were flush with one another. They both moaned, Eggsy’s fingers splayed against the mirror and Harry’s against sweat-soaked skin. The boy was tight as a vice, Harry thought, clenching his jaw at the image. The last thing he wanted was to come already, and if he continued thinking of Eggsy in such ways he’d certainly lose that battle.

Instead he focused on maintaining his control as he rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, fingers leaving dark bruises on Eggsy’s waist. He was so _pliant_ , body moving like water against Harry’s, taking his thrusts so easily. “You move like you were made for this,” he breathed.

Eggsy whined, the sound vibrating through them both because of how tightly they were pressed together. “You trained me good, Daddy,” came the response, along with a heated glance tossed over his shoulder.

Something fierce and hot and possessive caught in Harry’s throat. God, Eggsy always had known how to bring out the more… uncouth parts of him. “I should hardly think,” he growled, “that I was the one who taught you to be such a _slut._ ” The word was punctuated with a sharp, precise thrust that had Eggsy’s thighs trembling. He made a sound that could only be described as a wail, open mouthed and wanting, pushing back greedily against his mentor. So much for keeping quiet, Harry thought, and was vaguely pleased with himself for it.

It didn’t take long for Eggsy to unravel beneath him, coming with a whorish moan he tried in vain to muffle with the back of one shaking hand. His eyes were glassy in the fitting room’s soft, flattering light, shadows flitting across the length of his body as he writhed against the mirror.

Suddenly Harry was hit with the thought of Eggsy kneeling before him, mouth stuffed with cock, waiting patiently as Harry was fitted for a new suit. Or maybe a pair of leather gloves, smooth and supple and perfect for pressing against the grooves of Eggsy’s molars, against his wet, warm tongue--

There was a thin, reedy whine as come painted Eggsy’s insides and he squirmed at the sensation. After a moment they staggered apart on shaky legs.

“ _Fuuuuuck_.” Eggsy had his cheek pressed against the mirror still. His smile was practically audible, and he turned his head to give Harry a dazed, satisfied look over his shoulder. “I can’t believe we ain’t ever done this before,” he drawled.

Harry’s gaze lingered on the way Eggsy rolled his shoulders, trying to force feeling back into his clearly aching muscles. Then the logical part of his brain made itself heard: if they failed to clean up after themselves they’d never hear the end of it. For all the questionable things Harry enjoyed, public humiliation was not one of them, so he tucked himself back into his slacks and moved to grab some tissues from across the room. “Considering your proclivity for _interesting_ sexual scenarios,” he said, “I’m just as surprised as you are.” Returning to Eggsy’s side, Harry knelt and began wiping away the mess they’d made of the mirror.

“Oh, _my_ proclivity?” Though he wasn’t looking at Eggsy, Harry was one hundred percent sure the young man was rolling his eyes. “First off, mate, don’t use the word ‘proclivity’ when talkin’ about fetishes. You sound like a git. And second--” A hand ran its fingers through his disheveled hair, followed by a quick, fond kiss to the top of his head. “Last time I checked, I ain’t the only one who enjoyed hisself.”

“Hm,” Harry proffered. He tried to sound cryptic, but he was fairly certain Eggsy could see the reflection of his smile in the mirror, so the attempt was halfhearted at best. “I concede your point.” Tossing the dirty tissues into a nearby wastebasket, he offered up a silent prayer that no one would inspect them too closely while taking out the trash. Harry turned to Eggsy then, an idea beginning to form in the back of his mind, and said, “Perhaps I ought to invest in some gloves. Leather against skin seems like an interesting addition to the equation.” He raised an eyebrow in questioning-- as if he didn't already know what response he’d receive.

Eggsy’s mouth fell open, a blush rising up from under his collar. “Fuck yes, Harry.”

He smiled, slow and calculating and perfectly constructed to make Eggsy melt. “That’s what I thought.”

There was only a moment’s notice before he was tugged down by his tie into a fierce kiss.


	20. Daddy kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, guys! I went on a trip to DC over the weekend and wasn't able to write. I'll try to post double here for awhile so I can catch up. Meanwhile, enjoy! B^)

In hindsight, Harry wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming. Eggsy was-- except when on a job-- very easy to read. He had an open, expressive face and spoke casually enough that even when they became a couple, Harry was sure he already knew Eggsy inside and out.

But Eggsy was first and foremost a Kingsman, meaning he was just as capable of keeping secrets as anyone else.

There was a prickle across his skin as Eggsy hummed into his neck, the vibrations skimming along his collarbone. “Y’know,” he said, “M’still surprised sometimes, that I got a bloke as amazin’ as you.” The two of them were curled up on their couch, having drinks and watching whatever happened to be on TV, Eggsy curled up on Harry’s lap like a huge cat.

Harry huffed a laugh. When he rubbed a palm over Eggsy’s nape the boy shivered, making another pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I should hardly think I’m that special, Eggsy.”

“Are too.” Eggsy tilted his head to the side, looking up at Harry through half-lidded eyes. Up this close, Harry could see the flush coloring his cheeks from their wine. “Come off it Harry, don’ be so modest. You know you’re hot shit.”

In spite of himself, Harry began to smile. “Well…”

Eggsy returned his grin full force, bright and wide, eyebrows raised in a very obvious “I told you so” expression. “Exactly,” he said matter-of-factly. All of a sudden a flurry of kisses were pressed to the side of Harry’s neck: under his jaw, his ear, lingering in some places for longer than others. “You’re sex on legs,” gushed Eggsy, and Harry found himself rolling his eyes as well as blushing.

“And  _you're_ quite creative after a few drinks,” he remarked mildly. As Eggsy continued to lavish attention on any exposed skin he could reach, Harry pressed a palm between his shoulder blades and stroked down in one firm, fluid motion. Eggsy practically melted underneath his touch.

“Am I?” Another kiss just under his ear, this time followed by teeth. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat at the little bursts of pain. “I can think of some other things to call you, if y’like,” Eggsy was saying, body pressing heavy and hot against Harry’s. He’d slowly shifted his position until one bare leg was slung over Harry’s hips, thighs pressing into the cradle of Harry’s lap. It was an incredibly _distracting_ arrangement, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest.

“Do tell,” Harry murmured, lips pressed to the shell of Eggsy’s ear. The skin there was a bright shade of pink, he noticed. How endearing.

Just as Eggsy was about to answer, Harry’s palm made another pass down his spine. He felt his thumb rub over each groove, then over the dip in Eggsy’s lower back, made more prominent with how he was arched, and came to stop over the swell of his ass. To be fair, they’d really been setting up for this to happen, Harry mused: Eggsy was just in a tshirt and his boxer briefs, the soft, silk fabric clinging to his skin almost sinfully. For such a sight to be ignored would take more willpower than Harry possessed-- he was only human, after all.

An appreciative noise escaped him as he took a handful of Eggsy’s ass and squeezed. His skin was warm and flushed beneath the fabric. “I interrupted you, love,” he said, only half apologetic. “I apologize. What were you saying?” He squeezed again at the end of his question.  

The attention made Eggsy jerk in his lap, body going tight for a split second before relaxing again, becoming boneless against Harry’s chest.

“God,” Eggsy gasped, the word little more than a breathy exhale. He shivered as Harry’s hand returned to his spine. Then Harry felt the flutter of eyelashes against his neck, the wash of breath over his collarbone, and a whine of another singular word. “ _Daddy_.”

Both of them froze. All Harry’s brain supplied was a surprised, _oh_ , and his body seemed to agree because something hot and heavy lurched in the pit of his stomach. “Oh,” he said aloud then, voice coming out hoarse.

Eggsy’s hands pulled away from where they’d buried themselves in his hair, opting instead to press against his chest so the boy could prop himself up. His eyes, wide and a bit glassy, pupils blown from lust and wine, stared into Harry’s. If he hadn’t looked so incredibly shocked, the way his mouth hung partway open would have made Harry laugh.

“Uh,” he sputtered, “wow, I didn’t-- I mean I did-- but I don’t, not if you’re--”

A hand cradling his jaw silenced him immediately, as did the thumb pressed delicately to his plush bottom lip. “Eggsy,” Harry said, trying to sound serious despite the sudden and intense spike in arousal, “I’m.” He cleared his throat, tried again. “I’m very much-- _very_ much okay with this.”

Eggsy’s body began to relax, though the look on his face was still so incredulous that Harry had to coax more out of him. He let his fingers slide underneath that sharp jawline, pressing just a bit so that Eggsy’s chin was tilted. Like this Eggsy had to look down to meet Harry’s gaze, his eyes hooded and lips parted expectantly.

“My dear boy,” Harry said fondly. He watched hungrily as Eggsy shivered at the pet name, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. Harry said, “say it again.”

“ _Oh._ ” And just like that, all the tension melted out of him. They were pressed so close together that Harry could feel Eggsy’s cock twitch, trapped against his belly. “Yes, daddy,” Eggsy drawled.

Harry’s answering smile was sharp as a knife.

By the time he’d gotten Eggsy prepared, three slick fingers sliding in and out of his twitching body, and bent him over the couch, the boy was on the verge of coming. Harry watched his shoulders shake, sweat pooling in the small of his back as he was fucked. “Please,” he begged, voice muffled into the couch cushions. The way his breath punched out of him at each thrust, words coming out warbled and uneven, made Harry _throb._

“You’re doing so well,” he praised. His free hand-- the one that wasn’t gripping a hip, surely leaving finger-shaped bruises-- wandered up the length of Eggsy’s back.

Eggsy made a noise akin to a sob. “Fuck, Harry--” He pushed back insistently against Harry’s hips, the slide of skin against skin slow and deliberate. “ _Harder,_ ” he moaned, “God, daddy, I need… I need--”

“I’ve got you,” Harry interrupted, rough voice and sharp thrusts at odds with the gentle press of his hand between Eggsy’s shoulders. He was surprised at how much feeling there was behind the words. Something bone deep that made his chest tighten and ache with each pound of his heart.

Another sob, and Eggsy’s body shuddering against his. Thighs trembling as he fought to stay upright, Eggsy tilted his head just enough that Harry was fixed with a one-eyed stare; he was able to glimpse a brief flash of a red, open mouth.

Harry leaned forward to press against Eggsy’s spine, hips moving in a deep, thorough rhythm. For the second time he said, “I’ve got you.” He pressed a firm kiss to the sweaty nape of Eggy’s neck. “My darling boy,” Harry murmured against heated skin, “so perfect for me.”

There was a wounded, wrecked noise from beneath him. Then one of Eggsy’s hands was intertwining with his, fingers pressing into the couch as they whited out together.


	21. Spanking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for. B^)

It was worth repeating that a little masochism was expected when working as a Kingsman. Their training alone was proof of that, not to mention the conditions they were put under for their missions-- he had yet to work with a single agent who didn’t get this eager sort of glint in their eye when the adrenaline kicked in during a firefight.

_ Yeah _ , Eggsy thought,  _ it’s probably kinda fucked up that we’re like this. _ Then he felt the long, slow slide of Harry’s palm down his spine and his thoughts turned to mush.

“I’d ask that next mission,” the man was saying, “you be a little less reckless. Instead of tearing off after the target without consulting me first.” He sounded stern, but Eggsy knew him well enough to tell that the scolding was casual at best. That, and the fact that when Harry was  _ actually  _ upset with him, he rarely dealt with the problem by groping Eggsy’s ass.

“Harry, you know I was--” A finger slid briefly between his cheeks, spreading him open and then retreating before Eggsy could arch into the feeling. Shit, Harry really knew how to take him apart. It took him a moment to focus his train of thought and continue, “I-I was just tryin’ to do what was best.”

“Hm.” There was a rustle of fabric as Harry bent forward; with the way Eggsy was draped over his lap, he had to tilt his head to the side to press a harsh kiss to Eggsy’s neck. “Even so,” he said, “I cannot let you go unpunished--” The hand on his ass gripped hard, forcing all his breath out of him at once. “--now can I?”

“No, Sir,” Eggsy breathed. 

“Very good.” Praise always got him to melt, and Harry  _ knew  _ it. If Eggsy hadn’t been so turned on, he might’ve been irritated at how easy it was to push his buttons.

He was gripped just under his ass, fingers digging into the meat of his upper thighs, as Harry shifted and got himself comfortable. His legs were spread just wide enough for him to plant his feet, which would give him better balance for-- uh, for what came next.

Harry rested a hand on his lower back, said, “You will count each strike as it falls,” and that was all the warning Eggsy was given.

The first strike wasn’t light, but it wasn’t as hard as Harry could hit, either. That much was obvious just from all the time Eggsy spent ogling his broad shoulders and muscled arms. “One,” he said with confidence. 

Second, third, fourth strikes fell with increasing force, alternating from one side of his body to the other. Each time Eggsy felt his skin jump under Harry’s hand. Starbursts of pain radiated out like ripples in a pond, crawling up his spine and making him rut hopelessly against Harry’s lap.

“Five,” he gasped out. He kept his vision focused on the ground, on the threads of their carpet. Maybe that would stop him from coming all over Harry’s nice dress slacks. 

A deep, slow exhale told him that his partner wasn’t as in control as he seemed. “You’re doing so well,” said Harry, voice rough at the edges. Eggsy was sure that if he’d looked up, he’d be met with an intense, almost piercing stare-- which would wreck all his plans of holding out for as long as possible. Instead he ducked his head, burying it in the expensive fabric beneath him.

“Always do well for you, Sir.” 

Harry made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “Continue counting, please.” 

Strikes six and seven were lighter than the previous few; Eggsy found himself whining, because  _ fuck  _ his dignity if begging convinced Harry to hit harder. There was a momentary pause, quiet and considering, before the eighth strike hit his upper thigh and made him choke. 

“God--” He was probably going to be chafed after this, with how eagerly he kept rubbing against Harry’s thigh. “E-Eight, fuck, Harry that’s--”

“Good?” The gentle touches were back already, soothing over his reddened skin. It was weird how much better that contrast made everything. The sharp flashes of pain seemed even brighter when followed by a calm, sure hand rubbing away the tension.

It was hard to think of a response when his thoughts had gone all muddy from the pleasure. “Keep goin’,” he managed to say.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. At thirteen, the corners of Eggsy’s vision went white, and he went completely still to avoid tipping himself over the edge. He could feel precome smearing over his belly, making skin and fabric stick together.

“You came so close, darling,” Harry murmured, because he was a  _ git  _ and liked to tease more than should be allowed.

Not that Eggsy didn’t love it, obviously. Otherwise he wouldn’t be bent over the man’s lap, practically crying over how badly he wanted to come. That, and Eggsy would be lying if he said he didn’t get a little pride out of lasting this long. Or if he insisted that he didn’t get a hard-on just at the thought of how bruised he was, and how it would ache when he sat still during a meeting, the imprints of Harry’s huge, beautiful hands covering his skin.

Now, though, he didn’t think he’d be able to keep his composure any longer. Composure being a relative term: his eyes felt like they were burning now, tears clinging to his lashes. Harry went crazy for that sort of thing, he knew, so he turned his head enough that he could catch a glimpse of a strong jaw and one golden brown eye, its pupil dark with hunger. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, knowing it was swollen and red by now from how often he’d been biting it. 

Eggsy looked up through his lashes and said, “Please, Sir. I-I need to come, I need--” Shit, if begging like that didn’t do something for him, too, because he cut himself off as he felt lust pool hot and heavy between his legs. Faintly he noticed the wrinkles his fists were leaving in the normally smooth, crisp fabric of Harry’s slacks.

The look he received was nothing short of predatory. Fingers dug into the curve of his ass and made him moan. “Yes,” Harry agreed. And when that hand came down on him for the final time, Eggsy saw  _ stars. _


	22. First time

The first time he and Harry had sex, Eggsy nearly ended up braining himself on Mr. Pickle’s shelf.

It went like this: they’d finally, _finally_ returned home after their mission, tired and rumpled and running on only a few hours of sleep. Poppy’s antidote had been distributed, her victims returning to their homes to reunited with their families, and Merlin was currently undergoing intensive surgery to rectify the damage done by the landmine. Roxy, too, had been found injured but otherwise okay, having escaped from the Kingsman headquarters before the missile had met its mark.

Eggsy tripped on the doormat walking in, swearing halfheartedly as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “I just.” He dropped his briefcase on the floor in the foyer, next to Harry’s. “Want.” His jacket was tossed haphazardly over a kitchen chair. “To get some fucking _rest._ ” He stopped abruptly as he realized Harry had completely disappeared. The entire house was silent, in a weirdly expectant way.

“Uh, Harry?” He doubled back towards the front of the house-- and turned his head to see the older spy standing in the bathroom, back to Eggsy, his shoulders held in a tense line.

Eggsy wasn’t sure what to make of it, honestly. All of Harry’s butterflies were still up on the wall; maybe he was having one of his weird hallucinations again? He approached carefully, arms outstretched in case Harry was too disoriented to recognize him.

“What is it, mate?” he asked slowly, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

Harry turned to face him, and-- God, the look on his face was something else. The way his jaw was set told Eggsy he was holding back some indescribable emotion; he knew the man too well to not notice a detail like that, no matter how small. His arms were held rigidly at his sides, like he wasn’t quite comfortable in his own skin. Yeah, he _did_ look disoriented, Eggsy mused. But not in the same way, somehow.

Harry stared at him, long and hard. Then he said, faintly, “You kept my things.”

Ah, that. Eggsy felt himself starting to blush. “Well, you know,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant and probably failing. “I wasn’t just gonna-- gonna toss it all in the trash. All of it made me thi--” He paused, because God, didn’t he sound sappy. But there was no escaping it now. “It reminded me of you,” he admitted. Then he looked very pointedly at Harry’s collar, his perfect Windsor knot in his clean (if slightly crooked) tie.

“Eggsy.” There was an emphasis on the first syllable: a realization. He heard the sharp click of Harry’s Oxfords on the hardwood floor approaching him. A hand brushed briefly under his jaw, the tickling sensation making Eggsy raise his head, despite the nerves still fluttering against his ribcage.

When their eyes met, Harry’s gaze was so warm and open-- and what an amazing sight that was, coming from someone who was normally so closed off from the world-- that Eggsy felt transfixed.

His normal response in a situation like this would probably be something witty, something ridiculous meant to diffuse the tension. How many times had he done that before, when Harry would smile at him or brush a hand against his back or stand just a _bit_ too close? How many times had he tried to ignore the disgustingly obvious feelings he’d developed for his mentor?

Yeah, that would be his normal response: a joke, a smart comment. But with Harry watching him so closely, like he would see through Eggsy’s skull and read his very thoughts, all he could manage was the truth. “I missed you,” he said. He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. “So, so much, Harry.”

Then they were kissing, and Eggsy’s entire fucking world felt like it’d been flipped on its head.

He felt every single sensation very acutely: the press of one warm palm to his lower back, keeping him in place. Another hand cradling his jaw, its touch painfully delicate. Eggsy knew-- and his heart hurt a bit at the thought-- that Harry held him carefully not because he thought _Eggsy_ was fragile, but because _he_ was fragile. It was strange; Eggsy had never pictured the man as such. Not even that day in the pub, before he had known a damn thing about Kingsman. But seeing Harry now, scars visible around the darkened left lens in his spectacles, hands shaking almost imperceptibly where they were pressed to Eggsy’s body-- now, he knew.

They broke apart for a few moments, mouths mere inches apart. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” Eggsy breathed.

The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched up in a smile, making him look so relieved that Eggsy felt like crying. “As have I,” he replied.

Something warm bubbled up inside Eggsy’s chest. Fuck if he could think of a suitable answer to that, so he did the next best thing: he kissed Harry again.

They were still so unsure of themselves that it took a few minutes before their touches became anything more than tentative. Eventually Eggsy felt like he could practically melt into the warmth of Harry’s body against his, tall and strong enough to support his weight, that hand at his back still keeping him perfectly grounded. Harry smelled faintly of cologne and stale sleep and, under that, something distinct and so very like _him._

 _If warmth had a smell, it’d be Harry’s,_ Eggsy thought vaguely, and then laughed into their next kiss because _God_ did that sound _ridiculous._ He was so smitten with this bloke, with his bookish glasses and crisp suits, with his dry humor and stupid self-sacrificing tendencies.

In the heat of it all, the two of them somehow managed to turn themselves around. Eggsy only vaguely noticed that he was being backed up, into the bathroom, until Harry was kissing him again and his head was tilting back and--

His head caught the corner of the bathroom shelf, where Mr. Pickle sat watching them impassively.

“Ow, _fuck_!”

Instantly Harry pulled away, a look of confusion crossing his face as he tried to figure out what had happened. When he caught sight of the shelf, and the stuffed dog, and Eggsy rubbing gingerly at the back of his head, he actually fucking grinned. And then, like Eggsy had never seen him do before, Harry started to _laugh._

Eggsy’s head was still throbbing, but he stopped tending to it abruptly as he watched Harry practically go to pieces in front of him. He felt like he was witnessing some kind of miracle. And in spite of himself, he started to smile, too. “Hey, hey,” he said, sounding way too pleased for someone who’d just gotten cockblocked by a fucking taxidermy dog, “It ain’t that funny, is it?”

One of Harry’s hands came up to wipe at his good eye. His laughter was dying down, but his shoulders still shook silently and his smile was still broad and bright in a way they rarely ever were. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly, “I’m sorry, I just-- I can’t believe it. He’s still a fucking terror, even from beyond the grave.”

Eggsy shook his head in disbelief. Harry’s weird, morbid sense of humor never failed to surprise him. “Yeah, well, who’s the one who decided to put him on a shelf in the bathroom, huh?” He gave Harry a look of mock disappointment. “Really, Harry, this one’s on you. Not poor Mr. Pickle.”

There was a noise of grudging assent in response, still laced with good humor. Then Harry looked at him in a way that could only be described as coy. “Here,” he said. “Let me make it up to you.”

Just like that, they were back to kissing. Not that Eggsy was gonna complain: Harry was a fucking great kisser, just like he’d expected. He was perfectly content to simply stand here and do this forever, thanks very much. When they broke apart again, though, Harry’s good eye flickered briefly to the staircase at his right. “Eggsy--” Bless his heart, he actually looked _uncertain_. Harry Hart looking uncertain about anything in life was a strangely endearing sight. “Would you like to go upstairs?”

Eggsy couldn’t keep the ridiculous grin from his face. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, absolutely.”

They were surprisingly gentle with each other, at first. Even though he’d been dreaming of this for several years now-- of kissing Harry, of touching Harry and being _his_ \-- Eggsy wasn’t about to ruin the moment with a quick fuck. No, he wanted to take his time, and apparently the feeling was mutual.

He groaned as the backs of his thighs hit the bed and he fell back onto Harry’s huge, comfy bed. In part, he was glad to finally just _lie down_ , after remaining vertical for what felt like a solid week. But the feeling of the bed dipping underneath their combined weight as Harry climbed over him was just as good, if not better.

“Hello there,” Eggsy said slyly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry snorted. “Oh, please.” Even though he seemed exasperated, Eggsy could see him fighting not to smile.

With a cock of his head and a cheeky grin, Eggsy opened his arms wide. “C’mere,” he coaxed. And Harry did.

Their first time together was slow, methodical, like both of them were afraid that any second they’d wake up, and none of this would have happened. It felt so surreal: Harry undressing in front of him, his eye fever-bright in the darkened room, gaze fixed on Eggsy. Deft fingers pushing his own aside and unbuttoning his shirt, his slacks. Harry, all lean muscle and thin scars and warm skin, pressing him into the mattress. Every inch of Eggsy’s body felt like a live wire, painfully aware of everywhere he was being touched.

The press of Harry’s finger-- his hands were so _beautiful_ , fuck, it was unfair-- into his body nearly made him come undone. It was embarrassing, kind of, because Eggsy really didn’t want to come before they’d properly fucked. He had more control than that.

“Ah, shit, please,” he groaned. There were definitely three fingers inside him now, instead of just the one; he couldn’t remember how that had happened. “Harry, _please_ love, I’m dyin’--”

“Not if I can do anything about it.” Harry tried to keep his voice light, joking, but Eggsy could hear the very real promise underneath it all, and it made his heart squeeze in his chest.

Harry was a fucking ridiculously attentive lover. His Kingsman training may have helped with that, honestly: he seemed to know what Eggsy needed before Eggsy did, himself. God, and what he wouldn’t have given to see the way Harry’s hips moved as they fucked, one long, fluid motion after another. Eggsy had his knees up against his shoulders, bent in half with his hands fisted in the sheets.

He could feel Harry panting harshly against his neck, sucking marks into his skin; the pain made his hips jerk up and press them together even harder. Their moans became sort of two-timbred as Eggsy’s mind went fuzzy with arousal. All the sensations blurred together into one, broken intermittently by sharp spikes of pleasure when Harry’s cock angled just right and hit that sweet spot inside him.

“Good,” he managed to say, his voice thick with-- tears? Eggsy wasn’t sure. “So good, Harry.”

The sheets rustled underneath him. All of a sudden Harry’s right hand met his left one, fingers intertwining and pressing against the best. The bed creaked as Harry leaned back just enough to look him in the eye.

“God, Eggsy.” He sounded just as wrecked as Eggsy felt. “I love you.”

As they lay there, tangled together, breathing each other’s air and so _close_ to reaching the end, Eggsy smiled wide. “Yeah, Harry,” he replied. “I love you, too.”

And just like that, everything between them changed. Eggsy wouldn’t have had it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I think this is one of my favorite prompts yet? Shout-out to whoever commented and gave me this idea, cause I'm really proud of how it turned out! ^o^


	23. Presentation play

Harry had to admit-- he’d taken on a lot of strange missions throughout his years as a Kingsman. But _this_ was the most interesting one he’d had in some time.

“How are things back there, Eggsy?” he said quietly into his earpiece. The dim lighting and low murmur of voices in the burlesque lounge made it easy to go unnoticed when using their comms. He shifted his weight to lean against the bar, martini in hand.

Eggsy’s voice piped back through the line: “Aces, mate.” They weren’t using their spectacles for this mission, so Harry didn’t have any visuals, but the tremor in his partner’s voice was clear enough.

 _I can hardly blame him,_ Harry mused. This wasn’t exactly the kind of mission either of them were used to.

For the past several weeks, Eggsy had been undercover as a performer at Red Velvet, a burlesque lounge at the heart of New York City. He’d developed an alias with Harry’s help: Gary, to everyone’s amusement, became his “fake” name. Gary, like Eggsy, was a poor kid who’d grown up in a rough part of London. Of course, the difference between agent and alias was that Gary had saved up enough money to move overseas, taking up residence with a few other members of the young working class. His dream was to be an actor, Eggsy had been telling people-- but had ended up at Red Velvet for now, as a placeholder until he could move onto something bigger.

Apparently, the lounge was frequented by the American contact of one of Kingsman’s most notorious targets. The goal of the mission, according to Merlin, was to plant a bug on said contact. Their first choice had been Roxy, who would have naturally fit in better at the lounge; burlesque was still very much a female profession. Those plans changed, though, when they learned the contact’s preferences. And seeing that Red Velvet was gender inclusive with its performers… that was when Eggsy stepped up to the plate.

They needed an agent to get close enough-- using “my charming good looks,” Eggsy had said, to which everyone had groaned-- to physically place the wiretap. A second agent would be needed to keep tabs on the mission and assist in case things got out of hand. It all made sense, of course, but Harry was still fairly convinced that Merlin had put the two of them on this mission just to watch them suffer.

Not that Eggsy, apart from his understandable nerves, seemed to really mind. Harry had nearly spit out his coffee when, about a week before the mission, Eggsy had walked into his office and casually asked what color lingerie would look best on him.

So perhaps his previous statement called for an amendment: Merlin had put the two of them on this mission just to watch _Harry_ suffer.

His train of thought was interrupted as the lights dimmed further, drawing attention to the brightly lit stage. It was a signal for them to return to their seats. His own plush armchair was placed close to the front; Kingsman funds had bought him an ideal spot to keep an eye on Eggsy, and on their target. No sooner had Harry taken a seat that a voice announced from behind the curtains, “Welcome to the show, ladies and gentleman. Please enjoy our first performer tonight, in his first ever live show!”

“Jesus, fuck,” Harry heard Eggsy mutter in his ear.

Mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen, he replied, “Best of luck.”

“Cheers.” And then the curtains pulled back to reveal Eggsy, shoulders back and head held high, dressed in a tight shirt and tight pants and _bright red heels_.

Harry felt his stomach flip. Very pointedly, he folded his hands on his lap and crossed his legs.

Faintly he noted how Eggsy barely seemed to wobble at all; he seemed more than comfortable in his shoes, actually. He must have practiced walking in them, and something about that made heat rise to Harry’s face. Suddenly he felt very overdressed in his crisp shirt and tie and bespoke suit.

Eggsy stepped up to the mic to catcalls and wolf whistles. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at the attention, eyes scanning the crowd. When he caught sight of Harry, his grin grew sharper.

“Thank you, everyone,” he purred. There were more shouts from the spectators, but Eggsy’s gaze stayed glued to Harry, who suddenly felt pinned in place. That, and his throat was very, _very_ dry. “I’m going to sing something for you tonight,” Eggsy was saying, “So I hope you’ll enjoy it.” He’d schooled his accent into something a little more proper, more demure-- but then he opened his mouth and Harry was completely, utterly lost.

He’d never before had the fortune of hearing Eggsy sing. A few times Harry had caught him in the kitchen, humming to himself, sounds almost forming words until he heard footsteps against the tile floor. Then he’d stop abruptly, and no amount of coaxing could get him to continue. “S’embarrassing, is all,” he’d said once.

As Harry listened now, he couldn’t even begin to understand why.

Then, because the universe hadn’t deigned to torture him enough, Eggsy started to move. His fingers unwrapped themselves from the mic and instead fisted in his shirt; up this close Harry could see the way the white fabric clung to the skin beneath. Each button was undone methodically. As they came loose the buzz of the crowd seemed to grow exponentially around him, combining with the thud of his heartbeat in his own ears.

With a slow roll of Eggsy’s shoulders, the shirt fell to the stage. The corset underneath was sleek and black and shone in the light; it went no higher than his ribs, drawing attention to his chest and cinching his waist, and, and--

Harry was immensely surprised that he hadn’t shattered his martini glass yet, considering his near death grip on the thing.

Of course, through it all, Eggsy’s gaze kept drifting back to Harry. His eyes would flick to other faces off and on, particularly the more _vocal_ people; he was also probably scanning the crowd for their target. But he always, always looked back to Harry.

Now Eggsy stepped delicately out of his heels, standing barefoot on the stage as his hands flitted to his waist. With the same slow, maddening pace he had done everything else, he rocked his hips and tugged down with his thumbs. As his pants slid down his legs-- those thighs Harry had been between countless times, and apparently Eggsy had _shaved_ too, God-- Eggsy revealed a pair of panties, jet black just like his corset.

By the time he toed off his pants completely and stepped back into his heels, the air in the lounge felt thick and stifling. The panties were complemented with black thigh high stockings. They had tiny bows stitched at the hems, the same shade of red as Eggsy’s heels.

And just as suddenly as it had started, the music faded away along with Eggsy’s voice. The lounge went _wild._

“Thank you, thank you!” shouted the announcer over the din. Eggy himself gave a little bow, still standing tall, one hip cocked, and shot Harry a _look._ It was a look usually followed up by a searing kiss, or the press of hands against his chest, but they both-- for once-- managed to keep their composure. Even though Harry could feel his dick pressing uncomfortably against his dress slacks.

It took a few long seconds for Eggsy to finally extricate himself from the stage; as soon as he disappeared behind the backstage curtain, his voice was echoing through the earpiece again. “Spotted ‘im in the crowd.” Did Eggsy sound breathless? Harry thought he sounded breathless. “He was watchin’ closely, so I think I nabbed ‘im already. I’ll approach him in a few.”

Jealousy flashed through Harry, hot and sharp as lightning, but he remained in his seat. The mission came first, after all. Once that was done he and Eggsy could have a much-awaited talk. (Though if Harry was being honest, not much talking was going to be involved.)

As he waited for Eggsy to finish his job, he heard snatches of conversation through the comms. Someone, voice deep and throaty and distinctly American, gushed over Eggsy’s performance. Eggsy made sure to pile it on, of course: _thank_ you, Sir, you’re too kind, and would Sir maybe like a private audience with his favorite entertainer?

Harry very intently distracted himself for the next bit of the job. Not because the noises Eggsy was making-- thick and greedy like his mouth was full-- weren’t appealing, no. He was just afraid that if he listened to much more, he wouldn’t be able to _stand._

Several near painful minutes later, he heard the distinct sound of heels striking a hard rhythm against the carpeted floor.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” he said by way of greeting.

Eggsy grinned almost lazily at him. “You do now.”

God, but Eggsy looked even _more_ gorgeous up close. His pink-painted lips and kohl-darkened eyes stood out most clearly, eyelashes sweeping against his cheekbones with each slow blink. He looked half-dazed, and upon closer inspection Harry noticed the imperfections in his makeup: his lipstick was smudged along his jaw, a bright blush visible underneath any powder he had on. It was an unexpectedly _devastating_ look-- Harry’s heart beat faster just by laying eyes on him.

His patience finally wearing thin, Harry stood abruptly. Eggsy followed the motion hungrily with his eyes, grin widening as a hand closed around his wrist.

“I heard private audiences were on the table for tonight,” he said lowly. “May I?”

The crowd seemed to part for them as they made their way to the booths towards the back of the Red Velvet. With one word to a fellow performer and a fervent glance in Harry’s direction, the two of them were let into a small but beautifully furnished room. True to its name, everything was colored a deep shade of red.

“You shoulda seen the look on your face,” Eggsy teased. “I was worried you were gonna pass out and ruin the show.”

“I hardly think that’s _my_ fault.” Now that they were alone, Harry contented himself with running his hands along Eggsy’s waist and over his hips. The gentle touch made the younger spy shiver. “Seeing as _you_ are the tart who decided to perform in this getup.”

“All for the mission, Harry!”

The wide eyes and pouting lips did nothing to prove Eggsy’s innocence, of course. Harry looked around the room, spotted a patch of wine-red wall not covered in picture frames or drapery and said, “Stand there.”

Eggsy cast him a smouldering look and did so, back against the wall with his legs shoulder-width apart. Under the corset Harry could see his chest moving in slow, shuddering breaths.

“Now I want you to remain standing,” he said lightly, stalking up to Eggsy until they were only a hair’s breadth apart, “until I tell you otherwise.” At a quick, jerky nod from his partner, Harry leaned forward to press a biting kiss to Eggsy’s mouth. He was met with just as much enthusiasm, tongue and teeth meeting his, which sent a shock of pleasure down his spine.

 _Blood goes nicely with the lipstick_ , Harry mused as he pulled away. Hungrily he drank in the sight of Eggsy’s eyes, watery with pain and glittering in the dim light, and the fat lip he was sporting from where Harry had split skin. His makeup was smudged even more now, too.

“Is that all?” Eggsy teased.

Harry responded with a smile, before sinking to his knees.

In front of him Eggsy’s legs shifted restlessly, muscles jumping underneath the almost sheer fabric of his tights. “ _Oh._ ”

“Oh,” Harry agreed amusedly. He pressed his hands to the backs of Eggsy’s thighs, kneading them gently, feeling them shake at the attention. “Now remember what I said, darling.”

“Ah, yeah.” Eggsy’s voice sounded faint already.

Rubbing his palms up over slim hips, Harry hooked his fingers under the hem of the panties-- but remained still. Eggsy started to squirm, huffing out little breaths and rocking his hips to try to get some friction.

“Harry, you _wanker_ , can you just--”

He leaned forward and licked a long, wet stripe up the underside of Eggsy’s cock through the fabric.

“ _God._ ” Harry pulled his head back as Eggsy jerked, muscles going watery for a second before locking again. The boy was taking Harry’s command seriously, it seemed, which made him throb in the confines of his well-fitted suit.

Finally Harry tugged the panties down around Eggsy’s thighs, admiring how his cock jutted out from under a perfectly groomed happy trail.

“Lovely,” he praised. All he got in response was a quiet, wounded noise. For a few moments Harry occupied himself with running his fingers over exposed skin and silky undergarments. _The bows really are a nice touch_ , he noted. Briefly he thought of Eggsy’s stocking-clad legs wrapped around his waist, shaking as he was fucked, and Harry swallowed hard.

There was a breathless laugh above him, and a thump as-- most likely-- Eggsy’s head hit the wall. “You’re gettin’ off on the quality of the fuckin’ _fabric_ , bruv?”

Harry frowned, trying not to look too put out. “Well,” he replied primly, “it _is_ very nice fabric.”

“That’s cute, Harry, and I love y’for it, but--” Again Eggsy started to fidget, resting a hand on Harry’s head and gently coaxing him closer. “I’m gaggin’ for it, please, can we. Just.” He made a frustrated noise as Harry froze, lips mere inches from where Eggsy’s cock was leaking precome, its head flushed and glistening.

One eyebrow arched skeptically, Harry looked up into his partner’s hooded eyes. “I rather think _I’ll_ be the one gagging in a moment,” he said, completely deadpan.

Eggsy laughed in surprise. Seconds later his grin was wiped from his face and his laughter caught in his throat, choked around a moan as Harry made good on his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the thought of Eggsy in heels. ;^)
> 
> For those of you who don't know, Taron Egerton actually has a lovely voice! He was in Sing, which to my understanding it a mediocre movie at best, but at the very least Taron did well. Here's a link to one of his songs from the film: https://youtu.be/nYCOA2jQ-XA.  
> It was hard for me to pick a song that I wanted Eggsy to sing, so I left it ambiguous. I think it was easier to get away with that when writing from Harry's perspective; he was a bit distracted to focus on the lyrics, I'm sure. ;^D


	24. Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a direct follow-up to the previous chapter! Read that one first if you want the Full Effect (tm) ;^)

After some begging, Eggsy had been allowed to take home his lingerie set from Red Velvet. By home, of course, he meant the hotel room he was staying in for the duration of his mission. The room he was currently sharing with Harry, who had come to accompany him for the actual execution of his mission.

Needless to say, everything had gone fucking _spectacular._

“Ahh, God, _Harry_ \--” Eggsy’s head lolled back and he tried to avoid bucking his hips too hard. After all, he didn’t want to suffocate his poor partner.

Harry, lying spread out on the bed underneath him, made a greedy noise in the back of his throat and pulled Eggsy closer. The press of his fingers against Eggsy’s ass made him feel like melting. A tongue pressed flat against his entrance, wet and warm and-- _fuck._ He bit his lip hard, trying not to come already. He needed this to _last_.

Unsurprisingly, the burlesque show had made Eggsy just as hot as it’d made Harry. It had been near fucking impossible to focus on the mission when he felt that _gaze_ on him. That one piercing eye watching him and smouldering any time he rocked his hips. Then when they’d hidden away in one of them private booths, and Harry had blowed him so hard Eggsy had nearly passed out, he made a mental note to maybe buy five extra sets of lingerie. Or more. Because Harry, to his delight, had a _thing_ for it.

Which is why he was currently still in his black tights, legs curled back towards Harry’s broad shoulders, as Harry rimmed him raw. What a life.

Eggsy rolled his neck, letting his head hang and his hands fist in the rumpled fabric of Harry’s dress shirt. He could see the man’s cock straining against his fancy slacks; Harry hadn’t even bothered to undress once they’d gotten back to the hotel. Lust simmered just under the surface of Eggsy’s skin as he thought about it. Harry, his drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend, so eager to get his hands on Eggsy that he didn’t even give a fuck about his own arousal. Jesus. Sometimes Eggsy wondered what he did to deserve that kind of attention.

Then a grin crossed his face. Harry deserved attention too, didn’t he?

His fingers fumbled only briefly with the zipper before he was able to yank Harry’s slacks down past his hips. Eggsy sighed happily; Harry really did have a pretty cock, if he was being honest. It wasn’t the biggest he’d ever taken, but it was the perfect size to reach all the spots inside him that made his body ache. That and, of course, it was _Harry’s._

“Think you deserve a reward, Daddy,” Eggsy called over his shoulder. His words slurred a bit; that tongue was still working him open, making his own mouth clumsy and thick with lust. “Gonna thank you for treatin’ me so nice.”

There was a catch of breath behind him. Harry’s thighs spread a little wider, hips shifting restlessly against the sheets. _It’s cute how eager he is,_ Eggsy thought fondly. _Even if he won’t admit it._ Just as Harry’s tongue finally pressed into him, hands leaving finger-shaped bruises on his ass, Eggsy leaned forward and fit his mouth around that cock in one fluid motion.

“Mnh!” A sharp jerk of Harry’s slim hips had Eggsy gagging. He blinked furiously, clearly the tears from his vision, and reveled in the way his guts clenched at the combination of pain and pleasure. Choking on Harry’s cock was, if he was being honest, a fucking _amazing_ feeling. Even if his throat would complain for hours afterwards.

Harry was always acting like Eggsy was the one with the cheek. Well-- alright, fair enough, but the older spy wasn’t allowed to completely feign innocence like that. Not when he slid a finger into Eggsy’s entrance alongside his clever tongue.

Vision going all shaky at the corners, Eggsy moaned around the cock in his mouth. He pulled his lips off with a wet pop and forced out a strained curse. “Fuck, Harry, _Jesus_.” The finger inside him curled, making his hips jerk, just as Harry’s free hand traced a faint pattern along the hem of one of his tights. Trapped between them, Eggsy felt his cock twitch in desperation.

Alright. No more teasing, not when he was so desperate to come. With renewed zeal, Eggsy ducked his head and slid his lips around Harry a second time. There was a moan that traveled all the way up his spine, a burst of pleasure going off behind his eyelids and making him whine pitifully in the back of his throat-- a sound that was piped right back into Harry’s cock. It started an endless loop of feedback that made both of them dizzy with pleasure, bodies sliding together and fingers catching on fabric until--

By the end, Eggsy’s lower half was dripping with spit and come. Harry’s gotten it on his shirt, too. And his slacks. God, they were a mess.

When he walked back into the bedroom with a set of towels, he found the older spy staring at the tights Eggsy had stripped off before getting up. He looked… sad?

“Something wrong?” he asked as he rubbed a towel over his chest and stomach.

Harry sighed. “We’ve ruined them, I’m afraid.” He held up the tights, displaying the wet patches and tears in the thin fabric.

Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Really, Harry was too precious for his own good sometimes. “Don’ look so upset, love,” he cooed. He tossed the man a towel and plucked the ruined hosiery from his hands. With a wink, Eggsy added, “There’s more where those came from.”

Of course, Harry was all too happy to help choose the next set of lingerie he purchased. “Teal matches your eyes,” he explained earnestly. Eggsy just snorted and told him-- not without affection-- that he was a dirty bastard.


	25. One catches the other masturbating

Harry had been unbelievably stressed recently, and nothing seemed to help. After his return to Kingsman he was quickly appointed as the new Arthur, which meant that most of Harry’s time was occupied by paperwork--  and far too much of it, if he was being honest.To make matters worse, Eggsy was off on a mission in the south of France. He was scheduled to return in a day or so, but until then he was so busy tracking his target that he had no time to call home.

The one time they had talked, and Harry had lamented over his workload, Eggsy had given him a wry grin through his spectacles. “Try not to chafe too bad while I’m away, yeah?”

At the memory, Harry huffed out an embarrassed sigh. He was most certainly _not_ chafing; what a vulgar thing to suggest.

He was using lube, after all.

Harry bit his lip to stifle a moan, his eye fluttering shut and blocking out the sight of his office. He rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock and let his hips roll up into the sensation. The fact that his muscles were starting to feel like jelly told him he was finally, _finally_ forcing himself to relax.

Whenever he twisted his wrist just right, shocks of pleasure shot down his spine, spotting the backs of his eyelids. The calluses on his hand provided a sharp contrast against slick skin. Of course, as nice as his own hand felt, he much preferred to imagine a different one in its place. One that was weapon-roughened but only just, still getting used to the press of a gun against its palm.

God, he couldn’t _wait_ to see Eggsy again. It was no secret that a large portion of his stress came from his partner being away for such an extended period of time. When Eggsy finally returned from his mission, Harry was going to grab him round the waist and--

“ _Well_ then. Missed me, did you love?”

Harry practically jumped out of his skin at the intrusion, eye flying open to see none other than Eggsy standing in the doorway. He still had his briefcase in hand, and was dressed impeccably in blue pinstripes with a blood red tie. From behind his glasses his eyes seemed to glint in amusement.

Taking a deep breath, painfully aware of the flush creeping up his neck, Harry replied, “You have no idea.”

Eggsy’s grin widened at his honesty, then drifted down to where Harry still had a hand on his cock. “I’m back early, in case you’re wonderin’,” he said, eyeing his partner rather like a piece of meat. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly did that,” Harry agreed sardonically. The effect was perhaps a bit lost because of how breathless he sounded; the way Eggsy was looking at him made him throb, and he had to bite down on his lip again to avoid embarrassing himself.

Eggsy appeared to be just as eager as Harry felt. “You want help?” he asked.

He found himself nodding in response almost instantly, hips tilting up and legs spreading to offer a better view. That garnered him a long, low whistle of approval, and the tap of Eggsy’s Oxfords on the hardwood floor as he walked to Harry’s side.

“ _Look_ at you, hm?” Very pointedly, Eggsy made no move to touch him. Instead he leaned almost casually against the desk, arms crossed, regarding Harry with a hungry gaze. “It’s so rare to see you like this,” he commented, “Takin’ care of yourself. That pretty cock out on display.”

Harry swallowed hard. His body took immediate interest in Eggsy’s words, dick twitching in his hand, and he began to move again. Though he still wasn’t being touched by anyone but himself, just having Eggsy present was doing wonders for his arousal.

“How long you been thinkin’ about doing this? You tryin’ to stay good, wait until I got back, but just couldn’t manage it, huh?”

Stifling a groan in his throat, Harry let his head fall back and his eye close again. Jesus, but Eggsy was such a _tease_. He already felt his body tightening, grip tensing and making pleasure burn white hot in his gut.

“Now that I’m back,” Eggsy was saying next to him, sounding almost _casual_ , “you can fuck me all you want. Or I can fuck you.” He swore he heard a grin in his partner’s voice as he added, “I do like seein’ you stretched around my cock, practically chokin’ on it whenever I move.”

That was it: with a final stroke Harry went rigid, come striping across his exposed thighs and rumpled slacks. His breath came in pants as he rode out his orgasm. When he opened his eye again, Eggsy was still looking at him with that slow, lazy grin of his.

“Better?” he teased. It was hard to miss the way he shifted against the desk, restless, like his own suit was suddenly a size too tight.

Harry licked his lips, gave Eggsy a onceover. He said, “I’d like to return the favor.” And predictably, that was all the coaxing Eggsy needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy torturing Harry way more than I probably should. B^)


	26. Deepthroating

Harry on his knees was a sight Eggsy never wanted to forget.

It probably had something to do with how _deadly_ Harry could be. He was a force to be reckoned with; anyone who got in his way during a mission didn’t have a fucking chance. Eggsy got a special kind of enjoyment out of watching their enemies try to take out the older spy, only to be met with lethal force, executed so cleanly and so effortlessly that it was almost beautiful.

All that power in one person, and yet Eggsy still got to have this gorgeous, dangerous man between his thighs.

Currently, Harry had one hand wrapped almost delicately around Eggsy’s cock. He was seated on the floor, still in his slacks and a dress shirt, the top few buttons undone to reveal his pretty collarbone.

God, and Harry really _was_ pretty, Eggsy thought. Not in the way he was, boyish and flirtatious with a face that looked best when pressed against crisp bedsheets. No, Harry was pretty in a sort of dignified way, dressed up so nicely that he was practically asking to have that perfect facade ruined. Luckily, Eggsy was always up for that challenge.

“You gonna use that mouth of yours?” he asked, words already clumsy in his mouth as he met Harry’s gaze.

He caught the tail end of a quick smile-- Harry always did think it was funny when Eggsy gave him cheek-- before Harry ducked his head and pressed an open mouthed kiss to his cock.

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathed. “Jus’ li--”

Then Harry, the insufferable bastard, took Eggsy into his throat in one maddeningly smooth slide.

“ _Fuck!_ ” It took all of his brainpower at that moment to not _actually_ choke the man; the tight heat around him made his whole body tremble, thighs shaking and shifting further apart at the sensation. One of Eggsy’s hands flew down to bury itself in dark brown hair. Mentally, he gave himself a point for mussing that perfectly groomed style already.

When Harry began to move, bobbing his head up and down, pressing his tongue flat against the underside of Eggsy’s cock, he got almost lightheaded. There were a few sharp thrusts of his hips that he couldn’t prevent-- but they hardly seemed to bother his partner at all. By this point, to be honest, Eggsy was fairly certain that Harry just didn’t have a gag reflex.

Judging by the way he sunk down, lips pressed to the base of Eggsy’s cock, and _swallowed,_ that assumption was proving to be true.

“Harry, God--” It was embarrassing, but he already knew that he came ridiculously fast when Harry’s mouth was on him. “I’m n-not gonna--”

Two strong hands, fingers splayed wide, slid up his thighs and came to rest just under his ass. Eggsy made a little noise of surprise as he was pulled closer; he threw a hand out to keep himself steady, and looked down to see what was going on.

Positioned like this, the backs of his legs came to rest on Harry’s broad shoulders. Eggsy watched in fascination as a little furrow appeared between the man’s brows, focusing intently as he continued his rhythm. At the end of another stroke, just as Eggsy was fully sheathed inside his mouth, Harry made a noise in the back of his throat. It was thick and muffled, sounding vaguely greedy, and the vibrations from it were sent straight up Eggsy’s spine.

“Ahh, G-God--” He couldn’t help it: he bucked his hips again, this time harder than before. Harry must have been caught off guard, because his throat tightened without warning. A wounded sound leaked out from around Eggsy’s cock, the hands at his thighs _shaking_ , and just like that he was coming.

Eggsy watched almost dazedly as Harry swallowed and then pulled away with an obscenely wet noise. When he looked up his eye was half closed, gaze unfocused, swollen lips slightly parted as he drew in shaky breaths.

“Jesus,” Eggsy swore. “You look so fucked out already.”

Harry closed his eye at the comment and took a shuddery breath, visibly attempting to compose himself. Fucking _adorable._

Patting him gently on the head, Eggsy folded his still shaking legs up underneath him, sliding further backwards to make room for the other man. “Now that you’ve used your mouth,” he said coyly, “you wanna put somethin’ else to use too?” Spreading his thighs and tilting his chin back invitingly, Eggsy flashed a suggestive grin Harry’s way.

Harry stood-- wobbled only for a second, bless him-- and climbed onto the bed. “Nothing would please me more,” he said lowly. His posture had already changed completely, from subservient to almost wolfish, a determined gleam in his eye. Every word seemed to catch in his throat now, deep and gravelly.

If Eggsy was being honest, he hoped the rough edge to Harry’s voice would last for _days_ ; just hearing it would remind him of that perfect mouth pressed to his heated skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Harry's allowed to be a slut sometimes too. ;^D


	27. A/B/O dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be a Kinktober without including A/B/O stuff!!!! I tried to change things up and made Harry the omega. Hope you like!

“Eggsy, I…” Harry stepped into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. “There’s an important matter we need to discuss.”

Setting down his mission reports-- silently thankful for the distraction-- Eggsy looked up at his partner. He seemed off somehow, his shoulders tense. For a brief moment Eggsy worried that something had gone wrong at Harry’s debriefing with Merlin, and he frowned. “What is it, babe?”

Harry sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved closer to the desk and said in a rush, “I’ve been told I need to take a break from my suppressants.”

 _Ohhh._ For half a second Eggsy went blank. Part of him was pleased, sure; it was hard not to be as Harry’s alpha. They’d been together for some time but hadn’t physically bonded yet, nor had Eggsy ever spent a heat with Harry. So yeah, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit-- a lot-- excited at the thought.

But the look on Harry’s face was still tight with barely concealed worry. Seeing him that way was so uncharacteristic; it was normally an expression he reserved for Eggsy, like when he was injured during a mission and woke up to the sight of Harry at his bedside. It was rarely a look Harry had when dealing with his _own_ problems. And for that reason, Eggsy knew that this decision was far more important than anyone else might realize.

“Did that come up at your debriefing?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “There was a routine medical exam, as usual. Morgana found that my constant use of… medication may have negative side effects in the long run.” He rolled his eyes, like the thought of Kingsman’s top doctor giving him health tips was somehow uncalled for.

“Well I mean…” Eggsy floundered for a way to phrase his explanation. “Don’t she know best, an’ all?”

“She does,” admitted Harry grudgingly. “It’s just--” Another sigh, and the heel of a hand pressed against his forehead. “It’s been so _long_.”

Eggsy made a small noise of sympathy. Ever since he’d met Harry, the man had been using suppressants on a weekly basis. It’s the reason why his smell had been so strange to Eggsy, at first: it perfectly masked his omega pheromones. He still had a distinct scent, something warm and very much _Harry_ , but it had never been complete somehow.

Once he’d learned that Harry Hart-- cool, calm, and collected gentleman spy, capable of snapping a man’s neck like a toothpick-- was an omega, it had all made sense. Considering how the previous Arthur (referred to casually by Harry as “that classist prick”) had been very set in his ways, Harry no doubt felt like suppressants were necessary to keep his job. At the very least, they were necessary to maintain his reputation. Otherwise he’d fall victim to the same stereotypes as anyone else of his alignment: a “weak, emotional, timid” omega. An “unable to defend himself” omega. Anyone who knew Harry ought to realize what a fucking joke that was, but unfortunately things didn’t always work out so easily.

Standing up and moving around his desk, Eggsy came to stop in front of Harry. “You know I’ll only be there if you want me,” he said softly. He pressed one hand to Harry’s chest, feeling a slow, steady heartbeat under his palm. “I know it’ll be difficult for you, after bein’ on meds for so long.”

“No, no, I--” Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Eggsy, I want you to be there,” he insisted. His expression was so deadly serious that it made Eggsy’s heart thud against his ribcage. A hand came up to cradle his jaw, and Eggsy leaned into the touch happily. “Eggsy,” Harry started again, “Would you bond with me? Properly, this time?”

A flood of warmth spread through Eggsy’s chest. “God, Harry--” His smile was so wide that it made his cheeks hurt. “Of course I will. Fuck, yeah, absolutely.”

His enthusiasm made Harry laugh, and that was all the reassurance he needed.

\---

Almost a week later, Eggsy came home to the sound of rustling coming from their bedroom. The Kingsman in him tensed momentarily, thoughts turning to a possible intruder-- but then he remembered he and Harry’s current situation, and he stopped.

Much to Harry’s chagrin, he’d been given mandatory bedrest until his first natural heat was through. The last thing any of them wanted was for his heat to hit during a mission, which would not only compromise Harry but also any agent he happened to be working alongside. That danger factor was the only thing that had made him agree, however reluctantly, to take a break from his work and stay at home.

Eggsy, unfortunately, didn’t have that luxury; he wasn’t being assigned any far-off missions, at least, but he still had to report to headquarters every day. He found himself becoming more irritated with it all as the week went on, all too aware of the fact that Harry could go into heat at a moment’s notice. Harry in heat, by himself, without Eggsy there to help him-- there was no way he’d let that happen.

Fortunately, it seemed like Eggsy wouldn’t have to worry about that. As he climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of…

“My… clothes?” he asked, confused.

Harry turned to look at him from near the dresser and sighed in relief. “Thank God you’re back,” he said. “Today has been dreadfully boring.” As he spoke, he took one of Eggsy’s shirts-- one of his favorites, a black polo with yellow trim on the collar-- out of the drawer. For a second he just looked at it, hard, and then turned to lay it out on their bed.

All the pieces finally _clicked,_ and Eggsy broke out in a wide grin. “You’re _nesting!_ ” he exclaimed.

Harry stared at him like he was trying to burn a hole through Eggsy’s forehead. “I most certainly am _not,_ ” he replied. Even as he picked up another one of Eggsy’s shirts and laid it out gently on the bed. On _his_ side of the bed, more importantly. At this rate, he was going to reach the bottom of the drawer in only a few minutes.

“Harry, babe--” Eggsy moved across the room and gently took the clothing from Harry’s hands. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.” He offered up a bright, wide, and completely genuine smile. “It’s cute, honestly,” he added.

Still, Harry wasn’t having any of it. He huffed, looking put out. “I was sorting your drawers,” he corrected. “You’re quite bad at folding things. And there’s not much to do here, just _sitting_ at home.”

Shaking his head, still smiling, Eggsy rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder and stretched up to kiss him. “Sorry I’ve been gone,” he said. “You know Merlin would kill me if I missed his meetings, even if I ain’t being assigned anything.” Then he wiggled his eyebrows, trying to look suggestive. “But I’m back now.”

“You are,” Harry agreed, and he sounded so relieved that Eggsy couldn’t help the hunger that ran through him.

“You already smell different,” he commented, voice low and furtive between them. And Harry did: his scent was even warmer now, marked by the sweet notes of an approaching heat. Eggsy’d never spent a heat with anyone, but he’d come across that smell often enough to know what it meant.

As he watched, Harry’s cheeks tinged a slight pink at the comment. “So do you,” he replied. When Eggsy gave him a confused look, he elaborated. “Suppressants don’t just block scent. They block the senses too, just enough to make a marked difference. I’d forgotten how, ah.” Suddenly Harry looked away, embarrassed. “How strong some smells are, in particular,” he finished lamely.

Eggsy couldn’t help it: he had to pry. “How do I smell?” he teased, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture.

Oh, and when Harry turned to look at him again his eyes were _dark._ “Divine,” he breathed. There was a spike of that sickly sweet smell in the air, making Eggsy lightheaded, and all of a sudden there were hands on his forearms and--

Harry kissing him felt like liquid lightning. Each brush of their mouths together sent shocks through Eggsy’s body; judging by the way the older spy shook as they kissed, the feeling was mutual.

Something hot and possessive reared its head inside of him, then, and without realizing it Eggsy reached down to palm Harry’s ass, pulling him closer. Breaking the kiss, Harry _moaned._ The sound made Eggsy incredibly proud: his omega, _his_ , getting off on just a simple touch. He leaned back to watch the way Harry shuddered under his hands. The tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose were slightly crooked, sweat already beading on his forehead.

“Babe,” Eggsy crooned, “lemme take care of you.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, pupils lust-blown and unfocused, and _damn_ if that wasn’t a beautiful sight. And Eggsy had it all to himself. It was _his._ “Please,” he said, the one syllable sounding like two because of how his voice broke.

Unable to stop himself, Eggsy growled low and pleased in the back of his throat. “On the bed,” he instructed. Harry was all too eager to comply.

It didn’t take long to work Harry open. If Eggsy was being honest, he did it less out of necessity and more out of his own enjoyment, wanting to see the way Harry’s body fluttered around one, two, three digits. The wet noises of his fingers sliding against those sensitive insides, copious amounts of slick staining the sheets-- Eggsy _loved_ it.

“You’re so perfect for me, Harry,” he praised. His voice had dropped almost an octave, but he made sure to keep his words warm and soothing. Harsh commands were the last thing Harry needed when he was like this, half-mad with want, panting unevenly against the bed.

Speaking of: there was a thin, reedy sound from underneath him as Harry shifted, spreading his thighs wider. He’d discarded his pants but still had on his olive green sweater. His glasses were still on, too, even if they were slightly askew. It was an endearing look for him, Eggsy thought. Fucking Harry half-clothed somehow seemed more obscene than if he had been naked.

“Eggsy.” He caught sight of Harry’s glazed eyes and wet, open mouth as the man craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “Please, I need-- need--”

There was a gasp and a wet _squelch_ as Eggsy pulled out his fingers, rubbing his slick-soaked hand over one of Harry’s hips. The sensation and dizzying scent made them both moan. “I got you,” Eggsy said, settling behind his partner, cock in hand. “I got you, Harry. Gonna make you mine.”

He slid into Harry without a single catch: one smooth glide, so wet and warm that Eggsy felt himself shaking from it.

“ _God._ ” The sound of that voice, thready and uneven and thick with pleasure, made his alpha instincts flare up again. “Good,” Harry moaned, “So good, hahh--”

Eggsy grinned, kept his thrusts light and almost teasing. The movements reduced Harry to incoherency, despite how shallow they were. “You want more?” Eggsy asked. It was an obvious question with an obvious answer.

There was a note of frustration in Harry’s next moan, and then the man was bucking against him, pressing his ass into the cradle of Eggsy’s hips. “Yes,” he hissed. “Fuck, _yes_ Eggsy, what does it look like?” His shaking hands fisted in the sheets as he fought for leverage.

Normally Eggsy would enjoy drawing things out, making Harry beg for his cock, but he was far too worked up for that now. He shifted his knees further apart for better balance and bent forward, bearing down over his partner’s back. Like this he was able to press a hand to Harry’s nape, keeping him pinned with his chest flat against the bed and ass in the air. Fuck, he looked _perfect._

“You’re so greedy for it,” Eggsy breathed. He couldn’t see the way his cock was pushing into Harry, not from this position, but he could _imagine_ it. Could feel the way he sank so easily with each thrust, Harry’s body clenching tight around him. “S’like you’re tryin’ to keep me inside.”

Harry gave a full-body shudder at that. It took him a few tries to formulate words, too focused on the feeling of Eggsy’s knot catching on his rim to think straight. “ _Please_ ,” he ground out, “I w-want--”

“Want all of me?” Eggsy interrupted. His teeth bared in a grin as he deepened his thrusts. “You’re perfect for it right now, Harry. God, you’re just _askin’_ to be filled.”

His teasing was apparently too much, because all he got in response was another low, needy sound, his breath shaking at each roll of Eggsy’s hips. Once again, Eggsy found himself too far gone to draw things out.

The scent of Harry’s heat had filled the room as they fucked, made the air thick and syrupy. His thoughts were both fuzzy and strangely sharp: he felt almost disconnected from himself, but at the same time he was acutely aware of how Harry’s skin felt under his fingers, how Harry’s knees brushed against his. The world around him was dim, but Harry-- _he_ was in perfect focus.

Soon Eggsy’s thrusts became almost brutal, wringing moans and cries from both of them. His vision tunneled alarmingly until all he could see was the shivering arch of Harry’s spine, jumper pushed up to reveal sweat slicked skin.

“F-Fill me,” Harry stuttered abruptly, his muscles coiling tight under Eggsy’s hand. “N-Now, I need-- alpha--”

Eggsy _growled._ The fever pitch in his stomach burned hot and bright, and God, he wanted so badly to bond, but he needed--

The sound Harry made when Eggsy pulled out of him was so distraught that he nearly _cried_. Briefly he was distracted by the way his partner’s body clenched around nothing, his hole raw from the rough treatment, before Eggsy managed to get his hands around Harry’s waist. In one smooth motion he flipped the man over. Ignoring the confused sound he made, Eggsy spread those long legs and pressed his cock back in, sliding all the way to the hilt.

At this new angle he was able to see Harry’s face as he was knotted, eyes squeezing shut under a fringe of disheveled hair and lips parting in a silent shout. His head tipped back to reveal the graceful line of his neck. Eggsy’s eyes were drawn to that patch of skin, where Harry’s scent was the strongest.

Eggsy was pretty certain he was drooling as he lunged forward to seal his teeth around that vulnerable throat.

There was a weird feeling in his chest, then: a sort of fluttering, like his heart was ten times lighter, floating in his ribcage. His head felt clearer than it ever had before, and each drag of Harry’s scent made some part of him purr in satisfaction.

He felt a sort of flicker in the back of his mind. Pleasure, happiness, love-- his own feelings magnified.

Laving his tongue over the bloody, already bruised mark on Harry’s neck, Eggsy propped himself up to look at his partner. Harry was watching him with wide eyes, his gaze still cloudy with lust but so _open,_ which was a rare sight.

When Eggsy smiled down at him, Harry mirrored the expression, one hand coming up to cup Eggsy’s jaw. He felt that flicker of emotion grow, and he understood.

“God, Harry,” he said, and was surprised to find his voice thick with feeling. “I’m so gone on you.”

“And I on you,” Harry replied, sounding just as raw. “For longer than you might think.”

They would need to move again sooner or later, Eggsy knew. But in that moment he was content to just lie there, feeling Harry’s chest rise and fall beneath him, their hearts beating out a single, steady rhythm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, it got sappy again! Figures. :'^)


	28. Public/semi-public sex

And to think they’d come to the opera to actually _watch_ a performance.

Eggsy, for all of his good qualities and his charming personality, was not exactly a patient individual. He’d agreed to go to the opera mainly to please Harry-- something he was eternally grateful for, as going alone would have been rather depressing.

What he did _not_ need was Eggsy’s hand on his thigh, rubbing a slow, teasing rhythm mere inches from his cock. Thank God it was at least dark in the theater.

“Eggsy,” he hissed under his breath. Predictably, the warning did nothing to stay the boy’s hand. Instead Harry heard a quiet laugh to his right, and then Eggsy’s hand actually dipped _between_ his legs to press briefly against his half-hard cock.

To be fair, both of them had been quite busy recently, meaning they had had absolutely no time to spend with one another. When Harry had suggested they go out for the night, he’d almost felt guilty about the pouting look Eggsy gave him. He’d bought these tickets for a hefty price, though, and didn’t want to miss out just because the two of them were feeling, as Eggsy would so delicately put it, “horny as fuck.”

So maybe Harry didn’t try _quite_ as hard as he should have to dissuade Eggsy’s touches. His embarrassment came less from the action and more from the thought of coming in his pants while surrounded by stuffy theater snobs. Somehow he didn’t think that would be appreciated.

Then again, if they _left_ the theater…

Harry grabbed Eggsy by the wrist, making him start. He gave a gentle tug, gesturing towards the end of the aisle, and stood.

Once out the lobby, he turned to see Eggsy looking at him in confusion, blinking under the bright lights. “Something wrong?” he asked slyly. Honestly, Eggsy was remarkably good at feigning innocence.

“Seeing as you were so _distracted_ ,” Harry replied, taking Eggsy by the wrist again, “I thought we might find an outlet for all that energy.” He walked them to a little alcove containing a set of stairs, which led down into a large, fancy restroom. It was one of the most opulent ones Harry had seen, complete with a seating area furnished with mirrors and crimson ottomans; beyond that stretched a long line of glimmering sinks and stalls on a shiny marbled floor.

Next to him, Eggsy whistled. “Bet this bathroom costs more than me old flat,” he said. Then, never one to be slow on the uptake, he turned to Harry and asked, “So what we gonna do in here?”

Harry gave him a withering look. In the end, he was unable to resist the eager look on Eggsy’s face, and leaned down briefly to press their lips together. He was hardly surprised when he was met with enthusiasm, a pair of arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him close.

“I suggest you pick a stall,” he murmured against Eggsy’s mouth, “if you don’t want to be seen.”

With a laugh, Eggsy disentangled himself and strode over to the nearest door. He opened it and, gesturing inside with a small bow, announced, “After you.”

No sooner had Harry entered the stall than the younger spy was on him again, this time caring less about how messy his kisses were. He guided the two of them until Eggsy had his back against the wall. _Better a wall than the door,_ Harry mused. If they were going to be doing anything strenuous-- and he guessed that they were-- it wouldn’t do for the stall’s lock to come undone from all that weight.

As if reading his mind, Eggsy grabbing hold of Harry’s shoulders and hopped up, hooking his legs around Harry’s waist. Immediately Harry brought his hands up to hold Eggsy’s thighs. Up this close, he could see the sheen to those perfect lips, the adorable little birthmark on Eggsy’s neck-- a neck which was currently suffused in a bright flush. It came in stark contrast with the snow white collar of his tuxedo.

Harry had always had a weakness for fine clothes. He preferred not to ruin them, if he could help it, but… what else was he supposed to do, when the thought of Eggsy coming undone while dressed so impeccably was making him weak at the knees?

“Think you can hold yourself there?” he asked, loosening his grip.

Eggsy cocked his head with a grin. “Who d’you think you’re talkin’ to, bruv?” he teased. He let go of Harry then, holding his hands up and waving them in an obvious display of confidence.

“You may say that now, but we’ll see.” As he spoke, Harry ran his palms up Eggsy’s back, pulling up his jacket and untucking his shirt. That way he had access to all the warm skin underneath. He even felt gooseflesh rise up along the boy’s spine as he pressed his hands down.

Though he shuddered in Harry’s grasp, Eggsy remained where he was. “Try me.”

Harry did. And it was _amazing._ Halfway through they did end up having to change positions, but Eggsy didn’t seem to care hardly at all. He was distracted, no doubt, by the way Harry had him pressed against the wall, slacks yanked down around his thighs as he was fucked from behind.

Things got a bit more complicated when the dull roar of a crowd grew above their heads. In the back of Harry’s mind, something registered: the opera had ended. Granted, they had left not very long before the end of the performance, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised.

That didn’t stop him from freezing entirely as a group of people came down the stairs and into the restroom, their voices echoing off of the walls.

“I can’t believe how much you spent to come see this, and you don’t even _enjoy_ the opera,” said one voice.

“The missus wanted to come,” replied another.

Eggsy, also perfectly still, tossed Harry a very pointed _look_ over his shoulder. The cheeky bastard. And then, of _course,_ just to torture Harry, more he wiggled his hips in a decidedly taunting gesture.

It took a lot of control not to make a sound, especially when his cock slid so _easily_ into Eggsy’s body. Harry grit his teeth, his grip on Eggsy’s hips tightening. When he looked up, his partner was still watching him, a glazed look on his face as he kept rolling his hips, even as the voices outside continued.

“It wasn’t a total waste of time, really. I just wish these things were a bit _shorter_.”

The sound of steps against the marble floor coming dangerously close to their stall had Eggsy going taught as a bowstring. Tense, and yet his hips still moved in tight little circles, looking for friction. It was almost like--

Harry smirked as he realized. Eggsy was _getting off_ on this: the threat of being caught, of being found in a posh bathroom stall, completely debauched as he was fucked by his lover. It should have occurred to him sooner, really, as both of them lived for adrenaline rushes. The only thing was, those rushes usually came in the form of firefights, or undercover assignments in strange countries. Not like _this._

 _Oh, why the hell not,_ he thought. No risk meant no reward, and he was hopelessly weak in resolve where Eggsy was concerned. So despite his better judgement, Harry held Eggsy steady and started moving again, slow, deep thrusts that prevented them from making too much noise.

Well, that was the _idea_ , anyway. Eggsy was immediately caught off guard by the treatment, and barely stifled a needy moan before it escaped from his parted lips.

“What was that?” someone said.

The room went quiet around them, but this time Harry didn’t let up. Instead he slid a hand up until his fingers were pressed against Eggsy’s lips, who took them into his mouth without question.

“I thought I heard a weird noise.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. This room echoes, is all.” Then there were footsteps coming nearer to their stall.

The sound of someone _so close_ made Eggsy tense again, tongue lapping greedily at Harry’s fingers. His hips kept twitching as Harry pressed into him again and again. The grip he had on Eggsy was surely bruising by now, but the pain didn’t seem to register with him at all.

As the footsteps stopped mere inches from the door, the very real possibility of them being caught became apparent. A sort of thrill ran through his body, even as Harry mentally berated himself for _enjoying_ this so much-- just as Eggsy was. At the next thrust his spine suddenly curved back at a near obscene angle, head tossing against Harry’s shoulder, and he came with several quick stutters of his hips.

Harry reached his own end just seconds later, mouth closing around the side of Eggsy’s neck to keep silent. He pressed his now sopping fingers further into that mouth, rubbing over teeth and tongue, muffling a moan before it could escape.

Honestly, one of the most taxing things Harry had ever done in his life was staying still, waiting, pressed against Eggsy in that tiny stall, until the footsteps finally faded back up the stairs.

Eggsy let out a shuddering gasp as Harry’s fingers freed themselves from his mouth. He practically shook apart, hands braced against the wall and thighs trembling, as they finally separated.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he said emphatically.

Harry laughed, sounding worn out and-- if he was being honest-- a bit sheepish. “I’m assuming I chose a sufficient outlet?” he asked.

Attempting to right himself, Eggsy turned to look at him with wide eyes and a wild grin. “ _Yeah,_ Harry. Jesus--” He laughed, rising up on his toes to press their lips together briefly. “I didn’ know you had a little streak of exhibitionism in you!”

“ _I_ do?” Feigning ignorance was the best option here, or he’d never hear the end of it for weeks. “I don’t believe _I_ was the one who came at the thought of being caught by several perfect strangers.”

“No?” Eggsy asked, teasing. He reached up to fix Harry’s crooked bowtie, then patted his chest. “You certainly _seemed_ to enjoy yourself, bruv,” he added, tilting his head to gesture at the sizeable mark that had been left of his neck.

Harry fixed the younger man with a stare of mock severity. In a perfectly even tone, he said, “A gentleman never reveals his weaknesses.” He couldn’t quite keep the amusement from his voice.

Eggsy laughed, gave him a knowing grin, and then reached out to unlock their stall door with a _click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a huge fan of how this one turned out, but hey, they can't all be winners!


	29. Sparring

“Hope you’re reading to ‘ave your arse handed to you,” Eggsy announced as he stepped into the Kingsman training room.

Harry turned from where he was standing near the lockers. “Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows raised skeptically. In his hands he held a roll of bandages, and was using it to wrap his knuckles.

“That’s right.” Eggsy dropped his gym bag on the ground with a _whump_. “I bet Merlin twenty quid that I could do it. So you’re goin’ down.”

Returning to his own things, Harry smiled. “Gambling,” he said in mock reproach. “Eggsy, how unbecoming of you.” His now wrapped fingers began undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging it off and folding it neatly into his locker. “After all I’ve taught you.”

Eggsy scoffed, pulling his own shirt over his head. “Yeah, alright. Like you weren’t bettin’ on Roxy’s match with Percival just the other day.”

“Percival didn’t stand a chance. It would have been remiss not to profit from that.”

“You’re a git, Harry,” Eggsy said with a laugh. He stepped out of his pants, too, instead pulling on a pair of shorts. They were a bright red with white stripes on each side, and clung to his ass _perfectly_. Harry had nearly tripped over one of the benches the first time he saw Eggsy doing squats in them-- an incident Eggsy remembered fondly.

“Maybe so,” Harry agreed. He too was dressed to spar now, wearing a pair of _sweats_ , of all things. If Eggsy hadn’t already seen the man in all stages of undress, he might’ve had a heart attack at the unusual sight.

Though he wasn’t at risk of cardiac arrest, Eggsy still felt his heart beat a little faster as he looked Harry over, because _damn._ Maybe sweats weren’t the sexiest article of clothing-- definitely nothing like a bespoke suit-- but something about the way they hung low on Harry’s hips made them pretty fucking great.

Almost delicately, Harry removed his glasses and set them with his things. Then he turned to Eggsy, a glint in his good eye, and said, “I’m still going to win.”

Eggsy grinned as he finished wrapping his own hands, flexing his fingers before balling them into fists. “Bring it,” he replied.

The two of them took their positions on the sparring mat; it took up nearly half of the large room, providing plenty of space for the agents to practice. They stood opposite each other and stretched a bit to prepare. Eggsy had enough experience with sparring to know that failing to limber up could do a number on his body afterwards.

Also, it was a perfect way to show off.

It was no secret to either of them that Eggsy was flexible as _fuck_ , and he proved it by doing only the most complex of stretches, bending himself into all sorts of weird positions. Weird positions that _maybe_ also happened to emphasize the strength of his thighs, or his biceps, or the swell of his ass in those shorts Harry hated so much.

Of course he watched Harry as he warmed up, too, because how could he _not?_ Though he didn’t do anything as fancy as Eggsy, it was still impressive to watch strength ripple under his skin with every movement. There was this one thing he did, rolling his shoulders to loosen them, that drove Eggsy absolutely insane. If Harry had his back turned, Eggsy could see the way the muscles tensed and coiled; he sort of wanted to sink his teeth into them, if he was being honest. Maybe that was weird, but that had never stopped him before.

After a moment Eggsy rolled back onto his feet, bouncing in place, and flashed Harry a grin. He got an exasperated look in response, though he didn’t miss the way the man’s eye lingered on his bare torso. The look traveled down his body like a physical touch. Eggsy mirrored the expression, drinking in the sight of Harry’s defined pecs, his trim waist, the thin, silvery scars littering his skin.

Jesus, look at them both. Just standing there, ogling each other. Eggsy laughed under his breath at the thought, and got into position: body turned to the side, feet apart. “We gonna stand here all day?” he asked, “Or are we gonna fight?”

Harry grinned at the use of his own words, echoes from a day that changed both of their lives forever. “Let’s,” he agreed. He took a few steps closer and shifted into a proper fighting stance.

Before Eggsy could even take another breath, Harry was moving.

 _Fuck_ , he thought abruptly, dancing out of the way of a right hook. He’d always been aware that Harry was fast, but it was an entirely different scenario when the man was coming at _him_. Immediately he had to duck under an elbow as Harry struck out again.

Okay, alright, focus. Regroup. Eggsy took several quick steps backwards, staying light on his feet, and tried to assess the situation. Granted, that was a bit difficult with the way Harry was fucking _stalking_ around him, like some caged animal, his jaw set in determination.

He had to use his flexibility to his advantage. The next time Harry came at him, Eggsy’s arms blocked the punches while his leg came up to strike Harry’s ribs. His breath came out of him in a rush but he kept his feet, backing off just as Eggsy had done previously.

Their eyes met, and both of them smiled, wide and feral.

Things went on like this for some time, neither of them really losing or gaining any footing on the other. Eggsy guessed that made sense, considering Harry was the one who’d taught him to fight like a Kingsman. They also knew each other too well, it seemed. He knew that Harry’s bad eye gave him a blind spot, of course-- but Harry was aware of that, too. And Eggsy wasn’t without disadvantages himself: he had a shorter stature, and was far more inexperienced in combat. He took more risks, which made him more unpredictable in a fight but also could make him more vulnerable. Ultimately, the two of them were near perfectly matched. Whoever slipped up first would end up being the loser.

Then, as Eggsy should’ve expected, Harry’s ridiculously long legs finally did him in. He went for another series of punches, hoping to use one as a feint for a second, much stronger hit. The first one clipped Harry’s shoulder, but it wasn’t nearly enough to unbalance him; before the second even got close, he’d already dropped to the ground and kicked out, leg level with the floor. Eggy’s own legs were swept out from underneath him and he tumbled backwards.

He scrambled to find his footing again, but then a strong forearm pressed against his throat and he knew he’d lost.

For a second they both just sat there, breathing hard. The way Harry was straddling his thighs was _very_ distracting. Even so, Eggsy still had the presence of mind to look defeated, head thumping against the mat. “Fuck,” he said on a harsh exhale. “There goes twenty quid.”

“Told you,” Harry ground out. He was watching Eggsy intently, hair falling in his face and curling from sweat.

“You don’t need to be so _smarmy_ about it!” Eggsy exclaimed, reaching up to slap Harry’s bicep lightly. “Bastard.”

The insult only made Harry’s grin widen, and all of a sudden Eggsy felt acutely like he was pinned under some huge, dangerous predator. He swallowed, throat moving against the arm still keeping him in place.

“We need to do a cool down exercise,” he said. As he spoke he wiggled his hips-- just an attempt to free himself, of course. Definitely not trying to grind up against the hot, pressing weight of Harry’s body.

At his words, Harry’s gaze darkened. “I have some ideas.”

He may have been a few pounds short because of their match, but strangely, Eggsy found that he didn’t really care. Funny, that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing fight scenes is HARD. At least the boys got distracted pretty quickly. ;^)


	30. Rough sex

Eggsy returned from his mission early in the morning, just after daybreak. It had been a tough one involving the diffusion of a bomb and, of course, multiple firefights. There was even a fucking _knife_ fight, too; he’d never been more aware of his smaller stature than when faced with an angry Russian drug lord about twice his height. The bastard had used a knife as long as Eggsy’s _arm._ It was honestly a miracle that he hadn’t been more injured throughout the whole fucking ordeal.

So, naturally, when he returned home after the debriefing, and the medical checkup, and the mission report paperwork that followed any assignment, Eggsy felt as raw and charged as a live wire. Adrenaline was still thrumming through his veins even now, as he stepped over the threshold to their home and set down his briefcase and coat with a sigh.

“Harry, I’m back!” he called. The older spy was-- surprise, surprise-- an insufferable morning person, meaning he had to be up by now. It was going on 10 o’clock.

“In the kitchen,” came the response.

And Eggsy’s first sight of his boyfriend upon his return was this: Harry standing at the kitchen counter, dressed in a shirt and tie with nice slacks, accented by the adorable striped apron he loved so much. He was mixing what looked like pancake batter in a huge bowl, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The table had already been set for two.

When he entered the room, staring in surprise at the elaborate setup, Harry gave him a smile. “You’re back on time, I see,” he said.

“What’s all this?” Eggsy asked. His heart sort of fluttered in his chest, still beating a battle-quickened pace against his ribs.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, like _everyone_ came home to find their fucking gorgeous partner making them fucking _pancakes._ “Your most recent mission sounded challenging, from our call,” he said. “I wanted to welcome you back.” He gave a little sigh, sounding world-weary. “Believe me, I know how stressful our job can be, even at the best of times.”

 _How,_ Eggsy thought stupidly, _did I come to deserve someone so bloody_ perfect. And before he could dwell on it any longer he was across the kitchen, grabbing Harry by the tie and pulling him down for a proper kiss.

“You are _wonderful_ , do you know that?” he breathed into the space between their mouths.

Harry smiled, looking bemused but not displeased. “Feeling affectionate, hm?”

Up this close, Eggsy could see a fleck of pancake batter on Harry’s cheek. He rubbed it away with a thumb, pressed it to his mouth to taste. “Yeah, guess so,” he said, noting the way the other man’s eye focused intently on the lower half of his face.

Harry’s gaze drifted down to where Eggsy’s other hand was fisted in his apron. “You’ve got a post-mission buzz,” he said matter-of-factly.

Of course Harry knew what was going on: both of them had gotten like this before. Sometimes completing a mission was like coming down from a high; you felt light on your feet and so _aware_ of everything around you. Everything felt amplified, and it was hard not to be jittery for hours after returning home.

Luckily, both of them knew how to deal with that kind of thing. And, just as luckily, Harry seemed more than willing to help.

“Breakfast can wait,” he said, low and suggestive, like a finger running down Eggsy’s spine.

“Thank fuck for that,” Eggsy replied, before his grip tightened again and he yanked Harry towards him.

That apron, it turned out, looked just as good on Harry when he was being pressed against a wall. It wrinkled horribly where Eggsy kept grabbing at it, trying to position the two of them so he could get at every bit of exposed skin. Harry’s tie was discarded rather quickly, slithering out from under his collar and falling to the floor. Then the top buttons of his shirt came undone, revealing a bit of muscled chest.

“God, you’re just askin’ to get mussed up, Harry,” Eggsy said. He reached up to fist a hand in the man’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make him gasp. The motion displayed the graceful line of his neck, tendons straining under the skin. Eggsy leaned forward to bite one of them, muttered, “Fucking _gorgeous_.”

Harry honest-to-God _preened_ at the attention. He was watching Eggsy from under his lashes, his eye a warm, golden brown, the shade of sunlight in whiskey. Those long legs of his were spread apart to accommodate one of Eggsy’s thighs; he kept grinding against it as they kissed, half-hard cock twitching in his slacks.

His eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker every time Eggsy’s grip in his hair tightened. _Interesting,_ Eggsy thought, and made sure to keep his hand in place once he had Harry bent over their kitchen table.

“You don’t want me to be gentle, do you?” he asked, watching hungrily as Harry gasped at the way Eggsy’s fingers pressed fast and harsh into his body.

“No,” Harry ground out. He tossed a smouldering look over his shoulder, so reminiscent of the looks Eggsy knew _he_ gave during sex that it made him grin. “No,” Harry repeated, “Come _on_ , Eggsy, I’m ready, just--”

“You wanna get fucked that badly, huh?” Even with all his teasing, Eggsy was equally worked up, and so he obliged. He pulled his fingers out and, without warning, pressed his cock in, in, until his hips were against Harry’s ass and he was _writhing_ beneath Eggsy.

“ _Yes._ ” It was less a word and more just a hiss of pleasure.

Eggsy’s grin widened as he rolled his hips in slow, steady thrusts. “That’s what I thought.”

It wasn’t long until Harry’s clothes were in a total state of disarray. Eggsy had reached around and undone the rest of his buttons, pulling the shirt down far enough to reach his neck and shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to untie the apron; if Eggsy was being honest, he didn’t think he’d be able to focus hard enough to untie the knot. Especially with the way Harry’s body felt hot and tight and _slick_ around his cock.

His heartbeat practically pounded in his ears as they fucked, all his tension making his muscles coil tight, thrusts bleeding together into one harsh, grinding motion. Eggsy was pretty certain that Harry was gasping for breath underneath him, and wasn’t that a nice thought. Harry, stuffed so full of cock that he felt like he couldn’t _breathe_ . Not that the sharp bites Eggsy was pressing into his skin made breathing any easier, but fuck, he had to-- he felt so _raw_ , his body so tense that his spine might snap with the pressure.

Eggsy could still feel the echo of gunfire rattling through his body, the taste of gunpowder on his teeth. Maybe Harry would be able to smell it, when he showered later and felt at the bruises Eggsy had left behind.  

“Close,” Harry gasped out, and it was like Eggsy was being brought out of a dream. He was panting against the nape of Harry’s neck, hips still bucking.

 _Oh,_ he realized, feeling the knife-sharp pleasure in his gut just a second before he fell over the edge.

It took a few long, slow moments for the world to stop spinning around him. When it finally did, and Eggsy peeled himself off of Harry’s back, he let out a long, steadying breath. “God,” he said shakily. He could already see the bruises, mottled and dark, appearing on his partner’s skin. “Harry I--”

“I ought to cook more often,” Harry interrupted, “If this is how you repay me.” Gingerly, he turned on his side to look up at Eggsy, giving him an exhausted but satisfied smile.

Relief washing through him, Eggsy smiled back. “I ain’t gonna say no to that.”

The next day, Harry appeared at their briefing with a limp in his normally steady gait. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word. And Eggsy fought to keep the grin from his face as the two of them made eye contact across the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, the penultimate chapter. We're in the final stretch, folks!


	31. Monster AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS FINISHED! Jeez, lemme tell you guys, this chapter was as long as one of my oneshots probably. I put a lot of extra effort into it, cause it's the last chapter and all-- that's why I posted it a day late! I wanted to make it a little more in depth than some of the other chapters. 
> 
> Of course, what better to finish off October than a monster AU, featuring vampire Harry? ;^) Hope you enjoy!

Eggsy was, in Harry’s mind, not only a talented Kingsman agent but also quite a lovely young man-- a fact which made it significantly harder for Harry to resist biting him.

As the only nonhuman Kingsman field agent, he had always prided himself in his restraint when it came to blood. He’d been alive for long enough that yes, he could control himself, he was _not_ a monster. It was always difficult to convince people of that. But with the medical technology Kingsman provided-- blood tablets, other substitutes, and the like-- it became just a bit easier to appear human.

Unfortunately, all of that technology was of no use when Harry didn’t _have_ any of it. Like now, as he sat tied to a chair in the basement of a Paris warehouse. This political extremist group they’d been tracking turned out to be a lot more well-informed than they’d thought: after being caught, all of Harry’s blood substitutes had been taken from him, and he’d been restrained with chains of pure silver. The bone-deep ache Harry felt in his wrists from the substance was doing _nothing_ for his mood.

And to top it all off, he wasn’t on this mission alone: Eggsy had been captured right alongside him.

“I sent a distress call before the signal cut out,” Eggsy said quietly. All of their things had been taken except for their glasses. “Merlin will be able to track our last transmission.”

Harry sighed, staring up at the dingy ceiling with its one flickering lightbulb. “It’s not about if they find us,” he replied grimly, “but _when._ ”

There was a shifting sound next to him as Eggsy tested his bonds. “How long you think you can hold out?” he asked. The concern in his voice seemed more directed at Harry than at himself. That was so _like_ Eggsy, too: he was about to be trapped in a confined space with his mentor, who was a fucking _vampire_ with no sure supply of blood, for multiple hours. Days, possibly. It was a grim situation, that much was certain.

At Eggsy’s question, Harry closed his eyes. “However long it takes,” he replied. And with that his resolve was set.

\---

The problem with action-oriented missions, he’d found, was that they required a _lot_ of energy, even for Harry. After some of his more brutal assignments he’d needed to double, sometimes triple his intake of blood substitutes in order to compensate for all the stamina he’d burned. This assignment had been no exception, considering the truly spectacular firefight he and Eggsy had fought through before being captured.

At the end of the first day, Harry already felt the thirst begin to set in. It was easy enough to ignore for now; he had before, many times, whenever there was a shortage of blood. As both of them were questioned and their Kingsman weapons examined, Harry found himself chewing at the inside of his cheek, focusing hard on the sharp pain it caused him. The taste of his own blood wasn’t nearly enough, but at least it kept his thoughts steady.

\---

Day two passed by rather uneventfully, save for the gnawing sensation growing in his gut. When he woke up on day three, the dull pain in his wrists had grown to a burn. Harry grit his teeth, growling before he’d even opened his eyes.

“Not doing so good, huh?” Eggsy’s voice said from across the room.

Harry cracked one eye open and winced at the bright light of the naked bulb above him. “No,” he ground out, one hard, harsh syllable. There was no use lying to Eggsy; he needed to be prepared in case he-- in case something happened.

“I hope Merlin stops faffing about and comes to fucking _get us_.”

That got a rueful laugh out of him. When he turned to look, Eggsy had a smirk on his face, too.

Still, it was hard to ignore the scent of blood at the younger spy’s wrists, where the rope was rubbing them raw. And Harry pretended not to notice the way his gums ached at the thought.

\---

Day four was one long, slow climb up a metaphorical hill: mounting impatience on the part of their captors, mounting aches and pains from being tied up-- mounting hunger, lancing through Harry’s body like lightning. His hands shook when a guard lashed out at Eggsy, the tang of blood sharp in the dusty room.

On day five, his vision blurred as he woke, tinged red at the edges. And three men came into the room, leaving with Eggsy in tow. Harry couldn’t stifle the growl that rose in his throat as the door closed behind them. He was alone. Hunger roared like open floodgates in his ears, and his consciousness dimmed, dimmed--

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eggsy was sure to roll with the punch that struck him across the jaw. The last thing he needed was one of these assholes breaking his fucking neck.

“ _We know you have sent a signal to someone_ ,” said his interrogator in clipped, almost hurried French. “ _If you do not tell us who you work for, things will end badly for you.”_

They were nervous; that much was obvious. Despite confiscating all of his and Harry’s equipment, Kingsman gadgets were deliberately made to look generic and so provided no information on either of their identities. Their glasses were the only way they could be compromised, but fortunately their captors hadn’t found those to be suspicious.

These people were up against a mysterious but clearly powerful organization, one that had sent two agents directly to their base of operations-- and one of them was a _vampire._ So yeah, Eggsy could understand why they might be scared shitless. Didn’t mean he was going to relent, though.

“ _That’s classified,_ ” Eggsy replied. His French wasn’t nearly as good as Harry’s, but he was at the very least conversational.

Another punch, sharp enough that his teeth clacked together. Eggsy swore under his breath, creatively and in English. Fuck, he’d bitten his tongue.

“ _What do you think will happen to your partner, then, if you refuse to cooperate?_ ”

Eggsy set his jaw. “ _What about him?_ ”

“ _He cannot last forever like this._ ” The man smiled, knowing he’d found a weakness. “ _We’ll kill him if he becomes too difficult to manage._ ”

And that was when Eggsy smiled, wide and mocking, because these assholes _really_ had no idea who they were dealing with. “ _That won’t be necessary,_ ” he replied, trying to sound as smug as possible. Just to piss the guy off.

Despite his bravado, as another punch landed Eggsy felt doubt begin to form in his mind. Fuck that, though: he’d rather take the beating than let Kingsman down. And he wasn’t about to give up on Harry, either.

\---

When Eggsy was returned to the holding room, he saw everything through a blurry fog. They’d probably given him a concussion with that last hit: the butt of a gun had caught him across the temple, stars flickering in front of his eyes. He was sporting a bloody lip too, and the cuts across his cheek from a ring-encrusted hand still smarted when touched.

All things considered, they hadn’t really done too much to him. Eggsy had a sneaking suspicion it was out of fear of enraging Harry.

Didn’t exactly work out that way though, because when the older spy caught sight of him, head tilted back as he scented the air, his lips pulled back in a _snarl_.

Eggsy had always been sure that part of the reason for Harry’s posh attitude and appearance was to prove a point. After all, how many people had given him frightened or disgusted looks when they saw his piercing gold eyes or sharp teeth? There was no better way to prove the dehumanizing stereotypes wrong than to be the very picture of an English gentleman.

It was a shame, really, that Harry had to put up with all that; he really was a nice bloke. A nice, handsome bloke who happened to survive on blood.

He didn’t look particularly nice now, though, with the way his teeth were bared and his too-bright eyes followed them from across the room. Blood was dripping down his chin, staining his lips red. For a second Eggsy couldn’t figure out where it all came from, but then it clicked: Harry had inflicted the wounds himself, probably in a vain attempt to lessen his thirst.

_He needs fresh blood, though. His own ain’t enough._

That thought, combined with the way Harry’s gaze lingered on his face-- he was still bleeding, he could feel it-- probably shouldn’t have made his mouth so dry.

The guards were quick to leave as soon as Eggsy was secured in his chair. “Assholes,” he muttered at their backs. Then he flashed Harry a smile, trying not to look too concerned. “They keep askin’ who we work for,” he explained. “Seems like they haven’t been able to hack our tech.”

Harry nodded silently. At least he looked a little less tense now that they were alone-- though his eyes still kept drifting to Eggsy’s mouth as he spoke. A swipe of his tongue across his teeth told him he was bleeding there, too, from when he’d been punched. Shit.

If they stayed like this for much longer, they were undeniably fucked.

“Be honest with me,” Eggsy said abruptly. “How much longer can you hold out for?”

The older spy closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice had a lilt to it that was distinctly inhuman. “I don’t know,” he replied.

Eggsy’s heart sank as he heard the truth in those words.

\---

Turns out, _I don’t know_ ended up being one more day.

Eggsy woke to the sound of heavy breathing at his left. When he turned his head, blinking blearily, he could see Harry bent nearly double in his chair. Sympathy welled in his chest: the man was _shaking_. Every breath seemed to pain him, rattling in his chest and wheezing out of his parted lips.

In the low light, Eggsy spotted the glint of two sharp, bone white fangs.

He swallowed hard, thinking of how those teeth would feel closing around his neck. Shit, they _really_ needed to come up with something, seeing as Kingsman was taking their sweet fucking time with their distress call.

“Harry--” One eye flicked in his direction, stretched wide enough that Eggsy could see a ring of white around the bright gold iris. “If anything happens,” he said, feeling suddenly helpless, “I want you to know that--”

The door opened, and in walked their lucky break.

It was a guard, one they hadn’t seen before. He seemed just as nervous as the others-- but then again, who wouldn’t be? What was different was that he came to stop in front of Harry, not Eggsy, and from his belt he pulled out a gun.

“ _Boss’s orders_ ,” he said as he loaded it. “ _You’ve become too much of a liability_.”

Neither of them had any way of knowing what kind of magazine he was using. There was a possibility that it was regular ammunition, and that they were planning on moving Harry while he was incapacitated. Then they could contain him until they got the supplies they needed to actually get rid of him.

Or-- and here’s where a thrill of fear ran down Eggsy’s spine-- the ammunition was silver. One shot, and Harry would be dead.

If the older spy was as scared as Eggsy was, he showed no signs of it. His hands clenched into fists behind his back, and he stared straight down the muzzle of the gun.

The guard’s finger squeezed the trigger, and Eggsy called out, “ _Harry!”_ and--

There was a sound of snapping metal and splintering wood as Harry _wrenched_ his arms apart. In seconds he was on his feet, making the guard stumble backwards, face contorted in fear and gun clattering to the floor.

He opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late. Harry already had a hand gripping his shirt collar, his kevlar vest, and then razor sharp fangs were burying themselves in his neck.

The force of Harry’s tackle knocked both of the men onto the ground. Eggsy watched-- both in horror and in awe-- as the guard was pinned to the ground, flailing weakly in a vain attempt to escape. A muffled scream, bubbling with blood, fought its way into the air. None of it bothered Harry in the slightest: his face was pressed into the crook of the man’s neck, one hand fisted in his hair to keep his chin tilted back.

 _There’s so_ much, Eggsy thought stupidly. _He must’ve pierced the artery._ It was probably weird how _that_ was his first reaction to seeing Harry tear out someone’s throat in front of him.

After what seemed like forever, the sound of struggling and audible swallowing finally stopped. Harry released his grip on the now dead guard and laid him out almost laughably gently on the floor. When he turned to look at his protégé, his pupils were blown wide and the bottom half of his face was _covered_ in bright red blood. The look on his face, lazy and satisfied, was so unlike the wild expression from just moments earlier that he seemed an entirely different person. And Eggsy, for some fucking reason, felt himself start to blush under the scrutiny.

“Jesus, _fuck_ ,” he managed to get out.

Harry smiled. “I’ve solved our predicament,” he replied, voice deep and throaty and-- _God._ Definitely not the line of thought Eggsy needed to be following right now.

“I can see that. Uh.” He shook his arms behind his back, drawing attention to the rope around his wrists. “You wanna untie me, bruv?”

His mentor was at his side in seconds, snapping the rope and freeing him. Eggsy winced as he flexed his hands, trying to get feeling back into them. There were abrasions on his wrists from the twine, bits of dried blood crusting on the skin, but they were nothing compared to Harry’s arms. The angry red burns looked fucking _painful._

“How’s it feel?” he asked quietly as he stood.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Harry moved to pick up his glasses on the floor; they’d flown off when he’d made his escape. Placing them back on, he then went to grab the guard’s gun, checking the magazine. “These aren’t silver, luckily,” he said. Eggsy breathed a sigh of relief, even though the danger had passed.

“Thank fuck for that.” Wrinkling his nose at the smell of blood, Eggsy stopped on his way to the door when he spotted remnants of Harry’s chains. “You really did break those,” he said, impressed.

Harry strode past him, listening at the door briefly before cocking his gun. Then he flashed a wry smile Eggsy’s way. “They weren’t pure silver,” he explained. “It hurts quite badly, but I can break them with enough force.”

“Why didn’t you do it sooner then?”

At that, Harry’s smile faded. His eyes flicked briefly to the dead guard on the floor, then back to Eggsy’s face and the blood staining his lower lip. “I didn’t want to risk hurting you,” he replied, voice quiet and so _earnest_. It made Eggsy’s stomach tie itself in knots.

He nodded, trying not to look too choked up about Harry’s confession. “Fair enough.” With a grin, Eggsy gestured to the door. “After you, Galahad.”

Fortunately, the two of them had already fought their way _into_ the place, so fighting their way out became relatively simple. The only real challenge was finding the right path through the winding corridors. On several occasions they got turned around and had to backtrack, only to be met with a group of gunmen who had been following behind them.

Despite all the enemies being thrown their way, they weren’t a match for Eggsy. And they didn’t even come _close_ to touching Harry.

Eggsy watched with something like pride as the man moved gracefully through droves of soldiers: firing off shots, smoothly reloading his gun, rinse and repeat. When people got too close Harry would simply lash out with an arm or leg, the strength in just one of his limbs enough to shatter bone. The sight of his piercing eyes and blood-soaked mouth probably helped with the fear factor, too.

He looked _alive_ , finally, after days of sitting half-dead in that chair. Eggsy would be lying if he said that didn’t make his heart feel at least a little lighter.

“A left here, I think!” he called over his shoulder after taking out another guard. Harry was further down the hallway, a blur of motion as he fought four people at once. Another guard grabbed Eggsy’s shoulder and he spun, looping his arm underneath his attacker’s and pushing up, up-- until he heard a _pop._ Immediately the guard went down with a pained scream.

Sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor as Harry made his way towards him. “We’re near where we entered,” he said. “We should--”

A round of gunfire went off at the junction of two hallways, and Harry _lunged_ to get out of the way.

“Shit!” Eggsy ran to help just as a group of soldiers came spilling out into the crossroads. One of them bowled Harry over as he tried to stand, and an inhuman growl rent the air. Snarling, gun trained on the next closest enemy, the older spy fought to free himself from underneath the combined weight of several men. _He must still be weak_ , Eggsy thought. He’d definitely seen Harry lift more than that before, so the fact that he was struggling now was not normal.

It was easy enough to unload his clip into the group of guards, and then Harry was finally able to haul himself to his feet. His teeth were bared again, this time in frustration, and when he glanced at Eggsy his eyes were a little glazed with fatigue. “Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered.

Eggsy offered him a sympathetic smile. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

The rest of their escape went off without a hitch, and in no time the two of them were standing outside under a cloudy, rainy sky.

“Oh thank God,” Harry breathed. Sun didn’t kill vampires like in urban myth, but it could be “bloody irritating,” according to the older man. He had to take special precautions when he went on missions involving direct and prolonged exposure.

“ _You_ may be happy,” Eggsy groused, “but I’m fuckin’ _soaked_.”

As the two of them climbed the stairs out of the warehouse, Harry tripped and nearly stumbled up half of them. He reached out and grabbed Eggsy’s arm for support. “Let’s just--” He interrupted himself with a harsh, angry exhale. “We need to call Merlin,” he said.

“I know, yeah.” With one of Harry’s arms draped over his shoulders, Eggsy helped both of them up the steps. “But let’s get back first.”

“Back” meant the hotel where they’d based their operations for this mission. There they had left most of their supplies, and-- if they were lucky-- Harry still had enough blood tablets to last him until they met up with another agent. It was easy enough to hotwire a car, Eggsy in the driver’s seat, as they made the call to Merlin.

With a few taps, Harry had his glasses back online. “Merlin, do you copy? This is Galahad.” His voice sounded all business, betraying none of the exhaustion that had been audible just moments before.

Eggsy was close enough to hear a faint crackling in the glasses’ mic, and then: “Jesus, Galahad! That distress signal Gareth sent got a bit jumbled as you entered the dead zone. We took far too long decoding it. Are you both alright? No major injuries?”

“Yes, we are. And no, nothing too severe.” Harry’s eyes flicked to Eggsy, softening a bit in relief. ‘What do you suggest?”

There was the familiar sound of tapping on a keyboard before Merlin spoke again. “Lancelot is already on her way to meet you with new supplies,” he informed them, “But she won’t arrive for several more hours.” His voice took on an apologetic tone as he added, “I hate to keep you out in the field after that ordeal, but this assignment is too important to give up.”

“Understood, Merlin.” Though his wording was formal, Harry made to keep his tone considerate. No need to give the man grief for following orders. “We’ll be fine. And we’ll keep you informed.”

\---

Getting back into the hotel when the two of them were covered in blood was _interesting_ , to say the least. But when they finally made it to their room, door shut snugly behind them, both spies breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fuck,” Eggsy groaned, “Thank God for ritzy hotel room beds.”

Harry huffed out a tired laugh before making a beeline for the bathroom. In one of the cupboards he’d put his pack of blood tablets and other substitutes. But as Eggsy was about to make another comment, the rustling and rattling sound of packets and pill bottles stopped. Harry appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.

“I don’t have anymore,” he said faintly. Two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned heavily against the doorframe.

Eggsy sat up on the bed. “Shit.”

When he stood up, though, meaning to go to Harry’s side, he was stopped with an almost violent shake of the head.

“Eggsy.” Harry looked up at him balefully, eyes at half-mast. “I think it would be best if you--” Another deep inhale, exhale, and he tore his gaze away from Eggsy’s face. “If you don't come too close,” he finished, sounding strained.

 _Oh._ He still had blood smeared across his own face, he realized; they hadn’t been in the rain long enough for it to all wash off. Same with Harry, though it was harder to focus on the red crusting around his mouth than on the fangs peeking out from his upper lip, strangely clean despite all they’d been used for.

It would probably be smart to just listen to Harry. But then again, listening to Harry might also be fucking _stupid_ : he wasn’t about to let the man lock himself in the bedroom, or do something equally ridiculous, just because he couldn’t resist the scent of Eggsy’s blood.

Hell, if he wanted his blood that badly, he could have it.

“Come off it, Harry,” Eggsy sighed. He shifted forwards until he was seated on the edge of the bed, and looked up into a pair of wide golden eyes. Brandishing his upturned wrist, he said, “Here. Just take some. I ain’t about to have you die on me, after everything.”

Harry gave him a long-suffering look, brows drawn together like he was in physical pain. “I can’t,” he said thickly, “I might--” One hand came up to rub his face, and he growled in frustration. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Just as Eggsy was about to retort, Harry met his eyes again. “You just--” A tense pause, filled with the frantic beating of his own heart. “You smell too _good_ ,” Harry finished, the words coming out in a languid drawl, raw and surprisingly emotional.

It felt like Eggsy’s breath had caught in his chest, heat curling low in his stomach at the obvious desire in the other man’s voice. “I trust you,” he said firmly. And he meant it. “Please.” Again, he shook his wrist insistently, this time tilting his head back to offer his neck as well. “I want to help.”

Across the room, Harry gave a full body _shudder._ “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “You insufferable, _wonderful_ boy.”

Before Eggsy even had time to blink, the two of them were face to face. Harry guided him almost delicately onto his back, hovering above him, one knee pressed into the bedspread. With a heady sigh, the warm weight of Harry’s body sank down onto him. It was surprisingly comforting, even as Eggsy felt the touch of lips to the side of his neck, and the prick of sharp teeth.

“Go on then,” he breathed. And Harry did.

It fucking _hurt_ , at first. Harry’s fangs felt like needles, pressing in, in, until they finally broke skin and made Eggsy hiss in pain. Instantly he felt blood well up from the wounds, but then Harry closed his mouth around the marks and _sucked,_ and _oh._

“God--” Without meaning to, Eggsy fisted his hands in the back of Harry’s suit-- not pushing him away, but pulling him closer. Something about the gentle pressure of that tongue, warm and wet, combined with the now dull pain of the bite, was almost hypnotizing. It felt like Eggsy’s head had been stuffed full of cotton.

“ _Harry_ ,” he tried again. Fuck, his voice came out like a _moan_ , one that Harry echoed against his skin. He could hear the sound of the older man’s throat working to swallow his blood, could feel one hand rubbing circles at his waist, the other cradling his head almost reverently.

Harry held him like a treasure. It made his heart ache in his chest, even as every beat pumped blood sluggishly out of his body and into that warm, waiting mouth.

After not too long Eggsy’s vision began to blur, and he pressed gently against Harry’s chest. “M’done,” he said. “C’mon, Haz.”

True to his word, Harry pulled away at his request, despite the way his hands fisted longingly in Eggsy’s bespoke suit. His eyes had that dazed look in them again. Fresh blood was dripping down his chin again, and as Eggsy watched Harry’s tongue snuck out to lap it up.

Very suddenly, Eggsy realized two things. First, his own breathing was coming in slow, stuttering draws, catching on half-formed noises stuck in his throat. Second, he was _embarrassingly_ hard in his tight-fitting slacks.

“God, I wanna kiss you,” he said raggedly. “But maybe you oughta clean up first.”

With their faces this close together, Eggsy could see the way Harry’s pupils grew dark at the suggestion. “I’ll be right back,” he said lowly.

As the older spy cleaned himself off in the bathroom, Eggsy tried to catch his breath. Staring up at the ceiling, he called, “I can’t believe you needed that _much_. Even after you drained that bloke.”

Harry’s head peeked around the bathroom corner. “I didn't drain _all_ of him,” he said defensively, which for some reason Eggsy found ridiculously funny.

“Uh huh.” He flashed a cheeky smile at his mentor-- or his companion, partner, whatever they were now that this growing heat between them had finally been acknowledged. “Whatever you say, creature of the night,” he intoned, curling his hands into claws for dramatic effect.

Harry gave him such a withering stare for his efforts that Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh, until a soft (and thankfully clean) mouth met his own, and he was far too distracted to say much else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I wanna say thank you so so much to all the people who stuck with me through this fic! It was a wild ride! Considering how busy I've been this month, I'm kind of amazed that I managed to finish this at all. ^^'' All the feedback I got really kept me going, and I hope you guys return for the next fics I have planned! 
> 
> I hope you'll all enjoy my future work as much as you enjoyed this one. See you in the next fic! ❤❤❤


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